


Vector State University

by misstaken



Category: Final Fantasy VI
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Alternate Universe - College/University, Cameos for days, Cars, Cats, Coffee Shops, Cults, Drunken Shenanigans, Everyone Is Alive, F/M, Girl Power, Mental Health Issues, One-Sided Attraction, Past Relationship(s), Roommates, fuckboys
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-16
Updated: 2016-11-06
Packaged: 2018-08-22 16:27:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 28,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8292385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misstaken/pseuds/misstaken
Summary: Vector State University is a medium-sized publically funded university in the Midwestern United States. It is well-known for its school of education, robust engineering program and its modern campus close to a major city.This is where our story takes place.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I can't believe I'm writing this. D:
> 
> There are references to a physically abusive relationship and suicide in this story, but no graphic depictions of violence or behavior outside the realm of what was discussed in canon. 
> 
> I'll try to update tags as I write more (oh god)

**One year ago**

She stood outside the classroom door, checking the number several times against the post-it note that she had stuck to the back of her phone. Definitely Narshe Hall, definitely room 308. This was her choice. She didn't have to go. She was here because she wanted to be.

_Less than one semester in and I'm already going to a support group. What the hell is wrong with me?_

Her therapist would probably forgive her if she turned around and went home, but she had told Locke that she would try this out, and she didn't want to disappoint him. He was the only friend she had in this town, and while he barely knew about her past, he encouraged her to find help beyond Internet forums after her therapist recommended it.

_They won't make you say a word, and they won't judge you if you cry. Just give it a try, and if it's not for you, don't go back. You don't have to figure this out alone._

She gathered her resolve and pushed the door open, trying to appear as aloof as possible as she took a seat amongst the circle of women in the room. A few more women entered, and she preoccupied herself with checking the weather in several cities on her phone to avoid making eye contact. Finally the door closed and one of the women, roughly the age of one of her professors, took a seat at the head of the circle.

“Good evening,” she said, “I see we have some new faces. If this is your first time here, please know that while the focus of this group is PTSD, we do not exclusively discuss that topic. Above all this is a safe, non-judgmental environment where you can speak what's on your mind.”

The new people were asked to introduce themselves, and after a woman named Lola, whose boyfriend had gone MIA in Afghanistan tearfully spoke, the moderator looked in her direction.

_Here goes nothing. At least they aren't making us do trust falls._

“My name is Celes. Bad stuff happened and I tried to kill myself. It didn't work, so I'm here.”

Those were the last words she spoke until after the group ended and she was contemplating whether or not the cheap institutional coffee was worth drinking this late at night when she had a nine o'clock biology lab the next morning.

She heard a small voice behind her. “Hi...Celes, was it?”

“Yeah,” she replied, turning around, “That’s right.”

“I'm Terra.” She hesitated before continuing. “Sorry to bother you, but I thought I recognized you from somewhere, and I can't place it.”

Terra was petite with her ash-blonde hair in a high ponytail, and she was dressed in an oversized red hoodie and printed leggings. She could have been any number of girls that Celes had met over the years, but Celes would remember those violet eyes anywhere.

“Dr. Cristophe’s office, right? I've seen you a couple of times in the waiting room as I was leaving.”

“That's got to be it! Dr. Leo is your therapist too?” Terra’s voice brightened, and she giggled at herself. “What a weird thing to have in common, huh?”

“Well,” Celes said, “to be fair, we are at a support group on a college campus in a smallish college town.”

“There is that,” Terra nodded and smiled at Celes. “I guess it's not so weird after all, given the circumstances.”

Five minutes prior, Celes had been ready to head for the door, having decided that support groups definitely weren't her thing. Terra's smile was infectious, though, and not something Celes had expected when she decided to attend the meeting. She felt a rush of confidence that she hadn't experienced in some time, and she smiled broadly back at Terra.

“Do you drink coffee?” Celes asked, glancing back at the urn on the folding table.

“Nope, but I love chai lattes.”

“Have you ever been to the coffeehouse on the corner of 5th and University? There's a barista there, he's a friend of mine. He makes a great latte, I bet his chai is good too.”

Terra grinned at Celes. “Locke, right? He makes my lattes with almond milk, just the way I like them, and I never even have to ask.”

“I guess we have more in common than just our therapist, huh?” Celes wondered if Locke knew that Terra came to this support group; now she was curious as to who Terra was, why she was here, and wondered if Terra might see past her demons and become a friend. “Want to go get a real cup of coffee?”

“Make mine chai,” Terra replied, and the two women left the classroom together, both feeling more hopeful than they had in a long time.

**Present Day**

Terra glanced up from her laptop as Celes entered the apartment with a bag of groceries in her arms. “Welcome back.”

“Hey,” Celes greeted Terra, setting the bag on the kitchen counter and returning to the door to grab her keys. “Just so you know, there's a sale on those organic kombucha drinks that you're into-” Celes dropped her keys on the table and rushed towards Terra. “Holy shit,” she said, picking up a lock of the other woman’s hair. “You dyed it?”

“Oh, yeah.” Terra laughed. “What do you think? I won't be able to do stuff like this after I start student teaching, so I figured what the heck. It's just hair, I can always cut it off if I get tired of it.”

“I never pictured you with green hair,” Celes said, “but it suits you. I can't imagine myself anything but blonde.” She thoughtfully ran her fingers through her long platinum mane.

Terra nudged Mog from her lap and closed her laptop. Celes had discovered the white cat when she was leaving the lab late one night, shortly after they had moved into their apartment. Mog didn't hiss or try to bite when she approached, so Celes gingerly picked up the dirty, scared animal and carried it home, wrapped in her sweatshirt. Terra loved animals, and the light in her eyes when she saw Mog was worth the scratches on Celes’s arm. She wasn't chipped and after two weeks, they had no luck finding her proper home. The cat had quickly become a part of the family and spent every moment she could curled up against Terra, although she always went to Celes when she was hungry.

Mog stalked in an indignant circle, then curled up on Terra’s warm laptop, tucking her paws underneath her body.

“I love it when she loafs,” Terra cooed. “I'm snapchatting this, hold on.” She made kissing noises at Mog, trying to get the best pose possible before the cat tired of her shenanigans.

“When did you get snapchat?” Celes asked, returning to the kitchen counter to put her groceries away.

“A week or so ago. You should add me. I don't have any friends other than Edgar right now, and he's the one who said I should download it.”

Celes raised an eyebrow. “Edgar told you to get snapchat?” She was immediately suspicious of this situation. “I don't want to go all mother hen on you, but watch out for that one.”

“He's Locke’s best friend,” Terra noted, “and I think he likes me.” She blushed. “I know I'm not the most worldly person when it comes to dating, but he kept looking at me the entire time Locke and I were talking, and afterwards he asked me to add him on snapchat. And he's really hot,” she added, grinning.

Celes didn't want to doubt Locke’s friends, but she and Edgar had started off on the wrong foot when he'd spent an entire conversation about the engineering program staring at her breasts. At the same time, this was the first guy who Terra actually seemed interested in during the time they had been friends. Terra clearly thought Edgar was some kind of Prince Charming, but Celes got more of a spoiled rich boy, god’s gift to women vibe from him. However, she suddenly realized the potential for a double date with Locke, and resolved to put her misgivings about Edgar aside for the time being. Perhaps this was an opportunity in disguise. “And really rich, too. You know his father is Stewart Figaro, right?”

“Who?” Terra blinked, and Celes reminded herself that only two years ago, Terra was still completely separated from the outside world.

“He's a high profile investment banker, and was a state senator for a couple of terms a few years ago,” she explained. “I guess you wouldn't have known about that, huh.”

“Nope,” Terra shook her head, leaning across the kitchen counter and opening the bag of trail mix that Celes hadn't yet put away. “Kefka didn't trust politicians, he said that they were obstacles to his divinity.”

Celes pressed her lips together. She couldn't imagine what Terra’s life in that cult compound must have been like. “I'm sorry,” she said, closing the refrigerator door. “I'm glad you're away from all of that now.”

“Me too. Thanks for being patient, I know it's weird to have to explain this stuff to me all the time.” Terra smiled at her best friend. She looked past Celes and pointed at the counter, where Celes’s phone was vibrating and blinking rapidly. “Someone's blowing up your phone.”

“Probably my grandpa, wanting to know what we're doing in lab this week,” Celes sighed. The Del Norte Marquez lecture hall was named for her grandfather, the renowned geneticist, and as much as she liked biomedical engineering she didn't always feel like talking about classwork on the weekends. She picked up her phone and glanced at the text messages on the screen, and her heart jumped as she read them twice to make sure she wasn't misinterpreting their words.

Terra crunched a mouthful of peanuts and shooed Mog off the counter as she watched Celes’s expression change from impassive to pensive. “Everything okay?”

“Locke wants to get together after his shift tonight,” she said, swallowing. She was determined to not act like a love-starved fool, because Celes Chere was not that kind of girl, but she couldn't stop her heart from racing.

“Well, then I think you should go and see him,” Terra said, a knowing look in her eyes. “Bring me back a venti chai if you’re going by the coffee shop. I've got that paper due Tuesday morning on the Piaget method that I still haven't started. It's going to be a late night,” she said, sighing and scooping Mog into her arms. “Come on, Mog. While Celes is out, you and I can catch up on Netflix and think about childhood cognitive development.” Terra gathered her laptop in one arm and Mog in the other, retreating to her bedroom and leaving Celes alone in the kitchen with her thoughts.

She knew deep down that she was attracted to Locke, even though she couldn't figure out a way to confess her feelings to him. He was so kind and funny, and he was the only person other than Terra and Dr. Cristophe who knew about Gestahl and her suicide attempt.

Locke had been the one to discover her outside the fraternity house with her eyes black and nose bleeding, refusing to cry or speak. He asked her nothing other than if she was all right, and although he didn't even know her name until she checked in at the emergency room, he waited for her in those uncomfortable plastic chairs all night until she was released. Ever since that night, Locke had been her friend and confidant, and at some point during that time her feelings had changed from friendship to something that felt like love. She was afraid to say anything to Locke about her attraction; she wasn't sure if he reciprocated her feelings and worried about spoiling their friendship if he didn't like her back.

Celes distracted herself for the next hour by chopping vegetables and cooking chicken for the week. Meal prep was a must if she didn't want to live on Red Bull and Taco Bell, having made the egregious error of scheduling Chemistry 2, Calculus 3, and a 300-level elective genetics lab all in the same semester. She had a lab report that she needed to write, but she knew that she wouldn't be able to focus on it until after she met with Locke. She divided her lunches into five containers, stacking them next to Terra’s almond milk and Tofurkey, and headed into the bathroom.

She stared at her reflection, wondering if she should put any effort into her appearance. They were just getting together as friends, same as they had done time and time again for the last two years. Celes settled for shaking her hair out of its ponytail and quickly applying mascara and lip gloss. She changed out of her yoga pants into the pair of jeans that made her butt look the best, and while she was on the way out the door, Terra opened her bedroom door and stopped Celes in her tracks.

“Before you go,” Terra said, “what does it mean when a guy texts you the eggplant emoji?”

“It means I'm going to tell his best friend that if that fuckboy sends you dick pictures, you are never going to consider going out with him under any circumstances,” Celes groaned. “I'll see you later on. Don't wait for me for dinner.”

# # #

Locke folded his black apron over his arm, joining Celes on the other side of the cash register. “You want to go somewhere else, or is this okay?” He ran his hand through his sandy hair and smiled at her, and Celes’s heart fluttered.

“If I can get a red-eye for now and a chai latte for Terra later on, this is fine,” Celes replied.

“Red-eye, huh? I guess it is midterms soon,” he commented. Banon, the manager of the coffee shop, was still behind the counter and he set to work making Celes’s drink while Locke and Celes sat down at a table towards the back of the cafe. “Lots of double and triple espressos this morning, although Sunday is always a crapshoot between homework and hangovers.”

“Well, you know how much I party,” Celes smiled. “Getting drunk at crowded bars is no fun at all compared to reading about targeted gene therapy and solving differential equations in my pajamas.”

Locke chuckled, his brown eyes sparkling. “I have no idea what either of those are, although I know you and Edgar have the latter in common,” he replied.

“Speaking of Edgar,” Celes said, thanking Banon as he handed her drink to her, “if you could kindly let him know that girls don't want to see pictures of his dick anywhere near as much as he thinks they do, Terra and I would really appreciate it.”

“Oh god,” Locke dropped his face between his hands, shaking his head, “Did he actually send her dickpics?”

“Not yet, but I would just remind him that the only eggplant parmesan he should be considering is the kind you buy a vegetarian girl for dinner.” Celes blew on her coffee to cool it, then took a sip, hoping it would calm her nerves. “So, what did you want to talk to me about?”

Locke leaned back in his chair and fiddled with the collar of his black polo shirt. “Look, this is kind of awkward...so I wanted to talk to you in person. Thanks again for coming out, I know you're really busy.”

“It's okay, really.” She curled her fingers around her coffee cup, hoping he couldn't see her hands trembling. “We’ve had our share of awkward conversations.”

“I really like you, Celes,” he started, dropping the legs of his chair back to the floor and meeting her blue eyes with his own. “I'm glad we became friends, and I wouldn't want to jeopardize that for any reason.”

Celes swallowed and smiled at Locke. “Yeah, I agree.” There were so many thoughts coursing through her mind, endless possibilities of what his intentions might be. She chewed the inside of her lip nervously, hoping he didn't notice how tense she was.

“I was hoping you would.” Locke smiled warmly at her, and between his smile and the look in his eyes, Celes was sure she knew what he was going to say next. “There's something I wanted to ask you, and if you say no I'll understand, but I really hope you'll say yes.”

He had to be able to hear her heart pounding in her throat. There was no way anyone could miss a sound so loud and persistent.

“Will you go out on a date with a friend of mine next weekend?”

Celes opened her mouth to say yes, but before her words could escape her lips, his words sunk into her brain. “What?” she choked out, feeling her heart plummet from the stratosphere straight to the center of the earth.

“It's just one date,” Locke quickly explained, seeing the perturbed look on her face. “Look, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked, it's just that I owe him a big favor and you're exactly his type…” He trailed off, glancing over his shoulder at nothing in particular.

She wasn't sure who to be disappointed and angry with: Locke for asking such a thing of her, or herself for expecting something different. All Celes knew in that moment was that she felt like she had been suckerpunched, and that her coffee didn't taste good anymore.

“Who is this guy?” she said, swirling her coffee in her cup as a distraction. She didn't even know why she was asking - there was absolutely no way she was going to agree to this stupidity. “You'll have to forgive me, you know I don't have the best history with men,” she smiled sarcastically.

“His name is Setzer,” Locke said, “Setzer Gabbiani.”

“Sounds like some kind of mafia don,” Celes said. “How much federal prison time has he done?”

“None that I know of,” Locke said, and he saw the corner of Celes’s eye twitch. “He's not a bad guy, Celes. I wouldn't suggest you go out with him if he was. We all have stuff in our pasts, right?”

Celes was one step away from walking out of the coffee shop, but considered how much she hated being judged for her own misgivings and decided to at least hear Locke out. “What kind of date are we talking?”

“He has tickets to the opera,” Locke said. “I know you like concerts.”

“I hate the opera,” Celes said flatly. “And I hate wearing dresses even more than I hate the opera.” If she didn't know better, she could swear that Locke was trying to add insult to injury.

Locke sighed. “All right,” he said dejectedly. “I understand. But if you change your mind, let me know, okay?”

“I'm not going to change my mind,” Celes could be as stubborn as a mule when she set her mind to something. She reached into her wallet and pulled out a five dollar bill, handing it to Locke. “Tell Banon the coffee was delicious and to keep the change. I've got to get home and write a lab report.”

“Yeah, I'll text you later, okay? Be safe walking home.” Locke remained at the table, watching Celes's retreating form as she left the coffee shop.

Banon came by the table, and Locke wordlessly handed him the money. “Wow, kid, what did you do to piss her off so badly?”

“I dunno,” Locke said, “I thought she'd be happy to have a chance to go out on a date. She hasn't been out with anyone since I met her, and she spends all her free time studying.”

The older man shot Locke with a withering look. He couldn't believe that a man Locke’s age was completely blind to the enormous crush that Celes had on him. One of the breaks of living in a college town was the revolving door of youthful drama, he supposed, and shook his head. “That one’s complicated.”

“They all are,” Locke sighed, and pulled out his phone. A message from Setzer flashed across the screen. SO? WHAT DID SHE SAY?

He texted back. I’LL LET YOU KNOW BY WEDNESDAY. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought too hard for too long about the canonical immaturity of the female leads and the canonical fuckboy behavior of the male leads in FF6, which resulted in "if these people were of our world, Edgar would totally be the kind of guy who thinks dickpics are attractive." That turned into a slew of other ideas and then all of a sudden this happened...


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A differential equation is a mathematical equation that relates some function with its derivatives. In applications, the functions usually represent physical quantities, the derivatives represent their rates of change, and the equation defines a relationship between the two. (Wikipedia)

Mog leapt off of Terra’s legs when the front door slammed open and shut, and scurried under the bed at the sound of Celes’s bedroom door slamming shut a few moments later. Terra glanced at her own door, then glanced back at Chris Hemsworth on the TV and considered leaving Celes alone to cool off for the time being. She was legitimately worried about Celes, who was normally rational, and couldn't concentrate on either the TV or her textbook. Her stomach rumbled and she decided to use dinner as an excuse to check on her roommate.

Terra paused her movie and Mog followed her out of the room, meowing plaintively. “Guess it's your dinner time too,” she said, taking out a can of cat food. Rock music that Terra didn't recognize started to play through Celes’s door, and Terra set Mog’s pink food dish on the ground, making her way across the living room to the other woman's bedroom.

She knocked on the door twice, and when Celes didn't respond she called her roommate’s name. “Are you okay? You're not hurt, are you?”

 _You have no idea how hurt I am._ Celes took a deep breath. She didn't want to talk to Terra - or anyone else for that matter - but her logical mind knew that Terra would worry until she provided assurance that she wasn't physically hurt in any way. The two women always quietly looked out for each other, and Celes appreciated that presence, so she sighed deeply and turned the music down. “I'm not hurt. Come on in.”

Terra opened the door a crack and peeked inside. Celes sat on her bed with her chemistry textbook open and a yellow highlighter in her hand, but she clearly wasn't paying any attention to the equations on the page. “Your green hair is going to take a minute to get used to.”

“Pretty soon you won't be able to imagine me without it,” she replied with a smile. “Did you see Locke?” Terra left the door open as she entered the room and sat down in Celes’s desk chair, crossing her legs under her body.

Celes closed her textbook and crossed her arms over her chest. “Oh, I saw Locke.” She realized that she had completely forgotten Terra’s drink, and the corner of her mouth quirked. “God, I'm sorry, I totally blanked on your latte.”

“It's okay, I can go by Starbucks later on,” Terra said. “What did he want?”

“It's too stupid to even discuss,” Celes replied. Terra cocked her head at her roommate, knowing that she would eventually let on to what happened, but only if she didn't push. Mog wandered into the room and sat in the middle of the floor, licking her paws.

“Anyway, I took a break to give Mog her dinner, and since you're home early, want to get a pizza or something? I'm starving.”

“I'm not really hungry,” Celes picked up her textbook but didn't open it. She fingered the molecule images on the cover, deciding she was more angry at herself for letting Locke ruin her Sunday evening than she was at Locke for having questionable friends and idiotic ideas.

Terra stood from the chair and sat next to Celes on her bed. “I don't know what’s up, but everything is always harder when you're hungry,” she said. “Sun-dried tomato and artichoke pizza makes me feel better when I'm sad.”

“I'm not sad, I'm pissed off,” Celes sighed, leaning back against the wall. “Do you care if we get my half with meat?”

“Nope. Bacon and pineapple?”

“I knew there was a reason we were friends.” For the first time since she had left the coffee shop, Celes smiled weakly.

Terra reached in the pocket of her hoodie and realized that she left her phone in her room. She picked up Celes’s phone from the desk to open Seamless and saw a text message notification from Locke on the screen. “Locke texted you.”

“Leave it. Don't open it, I don't even want him to know I read it.” Her expression returned to sour.

Terra nodded, her curiosity growing stronger. She ordered the pizza and in light of Celes’s continued reticence, retreated to her room to read and watch more of her movie until their dinner arrived. The delivery guy that night was a high school kid with spiky green hair, and he complimented Terra’s new look as he handed her the pizza.

“Pizza’s here,” Terra called to Celes, nudging Mog away from the kitchen counter with her toe. “None for you, silly.”

Celes emerged from her room a moment later, her hair piled on top of her head and highlighter tucked behind her ear. Terra opened the cardboard box and dug into her side of the pizza.

“Locke is trying to set me up with one of his friends,” Celes said, sprinkling her slices of pizza with hot sauce.

Terra stopped chewing for a moment and looked up at Celes. “Oh,” she said, “...someone we know?” It wasn't like Terra had any real feelings for Edgar, they had only met a month ago, and hadn't even spent time alone together yet...

“Not Edgar,” Celes took a bite of pizza. “Some friend of his named Setzer Gabbiani. I tried to Google him and all I found was pictures of cars,” she explained. “Apparently Locke owes this guy a favor, and his brilliant idea of repaying that favor is to offer me up to Setzer like a piece of meat.”

“I don't think Locke thinks of you as a piece of meat,” Terra rationalized. She didn't want to comment on Celes’s crush, because she knew Celes was under the impression that she was expertly hiding her feelings for Locke. “I take it you're not going?”

“Hell no,” Celes emphatically shook her head. She scarfed down the rest of the pizza on her plate, realizing how hungry she was now that there was food in front of her. “Why would he even ask me to do such a thing? I can't decide if it's disrespect or naïveté, but either way I don't like it.”

Terra thought for a minute. “Do you really think Locke would put you in a bad situation on purpose? He knows what you've been through and seen you at your worst. Maybe he just needs a favor, and there's nothing more to it.”

Celes blinked incredulously at her roommate. “Are you seriously siding with him?”

“I'm not siding with anyone,” Terra said, “I'm just trying to approach this logically. Dr. Leo and I had a long conversation last week about the dangers of automatically assuming that someone is trying to take advantage of your friendship.”

“Oh god,” Celes said, “please don't make this into a therapy session. I also have Dr. Leo for that, remember.”

“Sorry,” Terra shrugged, “between therapy and my behavioral psychology class last semester, I guess I overanalyze stuff.”

“I get that, engineers are problem solvers too,” Celes closed the pizza box to keep Mog’s interest at bay. “That's the point, though. I graduated in the top ten percent of my high school class. I was all-state in lacrosse and swimming. I'm going to be an engineer, maybe even get a PhD like my grandpa someday. And Locke looks at me and sees arm candy in a pretty dress for his friend.”

“Where exactly would you be going on this date?” Terra let the last part of Celes's statement sink in.

Celes groaned. “The opera, of all places. It's like pouring salt in a wound. He couldn't even ask me to go somewhere I would enjoy.”

“Oh, I've always wanted to go to the opera!” Terra clapped her hands. “It looks so opulent in the movies.”

“You're not helping. Maybe you should go,” Celes suggested, “check something off your bucket list.”

“When are the tickets?”

“Next Saturday night.”

Terra’s brow crumpled at the same time a blush crept up her neck. “While you were out, Edgar asked me to go to our homecoming football game next Saturday,” she said. “Just as friends, it's not a date,” she added. “I made sure he knew that when I agreed to go.”

Celes raised her eyebrow. “You like football now?

“I don't know,” Terra smiled, “I've never been to a game, but Edgar’s brother Sabin plays for our team, so he gets tickets to all of the home games. He seemed pretty excited to go.”

“But you hate crowds,” Celes pointed out. She still didn't trust Edgar’s intentions, but a public place was a much better first date than somewhere remote and private. Like the opera. Celes shoved that thought away, the mere mention of it causing her temper to flare again.

Terra nodded. “Yeah, I told him that, and he said he has VIP seating so I guess it's a little less crazy than being in the bleachers. It's just once for a few hours, if I don't have fun, I won't go again,” she said.

Celes hated when Terra was the most logical person in the room. “Well, then Mog and I will keep the couch warm for you,” Celes said resolutely, scratching the cat behind her ears before standing up and stretching. “Thank you for ordering dinner. If I don't start this lab report now, I'm going to be up until five a.m.”

“Hey,” Terra said, standing up next to Celes, “I know I'm not the most worldly person, but I'm always here to listen if you need to talk.”

“I know. And I'm not always a soft touch, but same goes for you.” Celes hugged Terra and returned to her bedroom, the music starting again but at a much more subdued tempo and volume than before.

# # #

Locke and Celes normally texted each other at least once a day, but she hadn't read or responded to a single one of his messages since Sunday afternoon. Locke knew where Celes and Terra lived but decided against stopping by to make sure she was okay; instead he asked Edgar to check on Celes by way of Terra.

“She sent me this selfie on snapchat,” Edgar had shown him the previous night at the coffee shop, “I didn't think I was into...green-heads, but she's even prettier now. More exotic.”

“Green-head makes her sound like a stoner.” Locke commented as he wiped down the serving counter.

“Does she smoke weed?” Edgar asked. “She's going to be an elementary school teacher, so probably not, huh?”

“I have no idea, but I wouldn’t offer on your first date.” Locke shook his head. “Did she say anything about Celes?”

“Uh, let me look,” Edgar straightened his blonde braid, grinned brilliantly at the camera, and sent the photo to Terra before opening his texts. “Terra says she's got two exams and a paper due this week.”

Locke decided to take that information at face value and let the subject drop on Tuesday night, but it was now Wednesday afternoon and he was pulling into the parking lot at Blackjack Automotive. He waved at Biggs, who was halfway underneath a Subaru WRX STI, and called, “Setzer in, or is he with a customer?”

“Yeah, he's behind the garage. He got that car in that you were asking about. Sweet ride, dude. Tips must be great at the coffeehouse.”

“Something like that,” Locke replied, heading through the garage and out the service door. Setzer sat in the driver’s seat of the Porsche Cayman R, wiping down the dashboard with a microfiber cloth.

“Look what the cat dragged in,” Setzer drawled through the open window. “Locke Cole. You like it? She's a beauty, isn't she?” He patted the steering wheel with its immaculate leather cover.

“Sure is,” Locke said with an appreciative hum. “I can't believe you just had this sitting around.”

“This was one of Darill’s,” Setzer said. “She preferred fast and sporty, whereas I prefer my Mustangs and GTOs. But I couldn't sell it, she’d never forgive me.” He rolled up the window and climbed out of the car, carefully closing the door behind him. “Speaking of beautiful girls, how are you doing with my date for the opera?”

“Uh,” Locke hesitated, looking away from Setzer. “I'm working on it.”

“What does that mean?” Setzer stepped back from the car and shook out a cigarette from the pack.

“She didn't say yes, but she didn't say no.” Which wasn't a lie, exactly - a blunt declaration of hatred for the opera and 72 hours of the silent treatment wasn't no, although it certainly wasn't consent, either.

Setzer took a long drag on his cigarette. “Let me see what she looks like. I know you said she's my type, but I'm far more selective than a certain mutual friend of ours whose last name may or may not be Figaro. Maybe she’s not even worth the trouble.”

Locke pulled out his phone and shuffled through his photo library until he found a selfie of Celes and himself outside of a music festival that past summer. He handed the phone to Setzer, who let out a low whistle, holding his cigarette in his teeth to zoom in on Celes’s half of the photo. “Definitely worth it. Fuck me, I'd probably kidnap her if that's what it took to get her." Setzer looked up and saw Locke’s horrified expression. “Man, I’m kidding! Jesus Christ, chill out. I'm not actually gonna kidnap her.” He shook his head and handed Locke’s phone back to him. “How does a guy like you end up with such hot girls as friends?”

“She's not just some girl. She's smart, kind, and successful,” Locke returned. He liked Setzer, but the last few days had been stressful, and he wasn't in the mood to bullshit today.

“Sounds like you should be taking her out on Saturday night,” Setzer commented, sauntering back towards the garage.

“We’re just friends,” Locke sighed, “I already told you that. You know I'm not ready to move on yet.”

“Your call,” Setzer said dismissively, holding the door open for Locke, who followed him inside. “You need a really nice car for a night, I need a date for a night. Hey, by the way, are you coming to poker night this week?”

Locke’s phone buzzed insistently to remind him that been ignoring his messages while he and Setzer had been talking. He pulled it out of his pocket and saw a message from Celes. _CALL ME._

He walked back out towards the Porsche, running his hand gently over the hood while dialing Celes’s number. Locke was aware of Setzer watching him from inside the building, and he turned his back to the other man as Celes picked up.

“Hi,” he said tentatively.

“Hi,” Celes replied, “I'm in between classes right now and I've got study group tonight but I wanted to tell you that I gave it some thought and I'll go out with your friend.”

“For real?” Locke grinned.

“Don't misunderstand,” her voice on the other end of the phone was short, “I'm doing it as a favor to you, because you've done a lot for me without asking for anything, and I'd like to repay you.”

“I'll take it,” Locke replied. “Thank you. I probably owe you one now.”

“Tell him that he's meeting me at the opera house. I'm not driving with him.”

“Sure,” Locke said.

“We’re going to the opera only. No dinner before, and I'm going home afterwards.”

He nodded, “I'll let him know. I really appreciate this, Celes. You don't know how much it means to me.” He paused. “What are you doing this weekend?”

“I was going to be free aside from the ever present mountain of homework, but now I've got to go home to my grandpa’s place, see if he still has my senior prom dress. I'll come by the coffee shop tomorrow after my calc class, okay?”

“Sounds good. Thanks again,” Locke said as Celes ended the call. He went back into the garage and leaned his hands on the counter.

“I've got those hubcaps you wanted on order, by the way,” Setzer said. “If this date goes well, I'll knock 25 percent off.”

“How did you know she agreed to go with you?” Locke’s eyes were wide.

“I didn't,” Setzer said, “but I guess it's my lucky day. Tell her I'll pick her up next Saturday at 6.”

Locke proceeded to lay out Celes’s conditions and Setzer laughed. “God damn, I like her more every time I learn something new about her. Do I get to know her name, or is that classified until next weekend?”

“Celes Chere.”

“Celes,” Setzer repeated, “Very nice. Anyway,” he looked over Locke's shoulder at the car pulling up in front of the building, “I've got a customer. I look forward to meeting the lovely Miss Chere, and you just let me know what night you need the Cayman.” He extended his hand to Locke, and they shook to close the deal. “See you Friday night for poker.”

Locke smiled to himself as he left the garage. He had a lot to do in the next three weeks, but he was sure that he could bring Rachel back once and for all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is like popcorn writing...it has no nutritional value but I just can't stop!
> 
> For what it's worth, Chris Hemsworth is my face for Edgar ;)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Although genes contain all the information an organism uses to function, the environment plays an important role in determining the ultimate phenotypes an organism displays. This is the complementary relationship often referred to as "nature and nurture". The phenotype of an organism depends on the interaction of genes and the environment.  
> (Wikipedia)

Celes originally planned to leave for home as soon as her last class finished mid-morning on Friday; earlier was always better as the number of cops on the highway between campus and her grandfather’s house doubled every couple of hours on Fridays, and she wanted to miss as much rush hour traffic as possible at their destination. However, Terra had convinced Celes to let her come along for the ride, and Celes obliged even though that meant delaying her departure until afternoon. It gave her time to get homework done, which served a dual purpose of freeing up time on Sunday and an excuse to stop by the coffee shop to settle the tension with Locke in person.

Locke made her drink but had no time to talk until his first break, and when that rolled around he sat down across from Celes at their table, startling her from the gene recombination diagrams on the page and The Weeknd in her ears. “Geez, you just took a couple of years off my life,” she said, pausing her music and sliding her headphones down around her neck.

“Sorry, didn't mean to freak you out. Thought you were leaving this morning,” Locke said, peering into Celes’s coffee cup. “You want a refill?”

“Maybe on the way out,” she replied, “I'm sure Terra will want something for the drive. She's never been on a road trip before, even though I told her this isn't much of a road trip.”

“How convenient, Edgar’s on his way over. He’ll be excited to see her,” Locke said. “Did she tell you about their plans next weekend?”

“Yes, and that it's very much not a date,” Celes said. “She can take care of herself, but I hope Edgar knows that if he’ll have to deal with me if he pulls any bullshit with her.”

Locke chuckled. “He's plenty terrified of the mighty Celes Chere...as we all are.”

“I hope that was a compliment,” Celes raised an eyebrow. Her stomach fluttered with nervousness but she knew she had to get her apology out of the way before Edgar showed up. “Look, I wanted to say that I shouldn't have cut you off for three days. I know you worry about me, and I heard you were asking Terra if I was all right. So I'm sorry about that.”

He nodded. “My turn. I’m sorry I upset you,” Locke said, “and I want you to know that I'll have my phone with me the whole time you’re at the opera. I know you’re cautious about who you go out with and I swear on my life Setzer is a decent human being.” He thought briefly of Wednesday’s kidnapping comment and willed it away, smiling at Celes instead. “You know I'll always be there to protect you if you need me.”

Locke reached across the table and squeezed Celes’s hand, and her heart jumped into her throat. She wanted him to continue the motion, to pull her towards him and kiss her, tell her that the opera wasn't happening because she belonged with him. Celes held her breath for a moment and then exhaled when Locke let go of her hand and shifted in his seat to fish his phone out of his back pocket. “Edgar’s late,” he said, glancing at the time. “My fifteen is almost up.”

“It's okay, Terra’s class ended a few minutes ago so she won't be long, and then we need to get going.” She hoped the disappointment wasn't apparent in her voice. As if on cue, Terra’s green ponytail appeared in the doorway, followed close behind by Edgar. She waved at Celes and wandered over to her table while Edgar stopped at the counter to talk to Locke, who was tying his apron back around his waist.

Terra plopped down in the seat Locke had just vacated. “Ready to hit the road?” Celes had a hard time staying depressed while Terra was so cheerful, and she smiled at her roommate.

“Yeah, I'm all good,” she replied. “Coincidence?” She motioned to Edgar.

“I guess so! I bumped into him I was leaving Mobliz Hall. Do you want a ride home, by the way? Edgar has his car down by the quad in the parking ramp.”

“Sure,” Celes acquiesced, well aware of how heavy her books were this semester. She tucked her books and headphones into her backpack and looked up to see Edgar standing next to Terra, holding two drinks in paper cups.

“Chai latte, almond milk with extra foam and a drop of honey,” he smiled at Terra, “and a triple shot Americano with three pumps of vanilla,” Edgar turned to Celes. Celes reached for her wallet and Edgar shook his head, “My treat, ladies.”

Terra grinned. “Thanks Edgar. Are you sure you don't mind driving us home?”

“Not at all,” he said, “it's an easier way to find out where you live than bothering Locke for your address.”

“If I find you sitting in a tree watching either of us sleep, I'm calling the cops,” Celes said mock-seriously.

Edgar shook his head. “Locke, I'll be back after I drop them off. You want a ride to poker tonight?”

“Definitely. Thanks, dude. Safe travels, guys.” Locke turned back to the drink he was making, the bell on the door signaling the trio’s departure.

# # #

Two hours later, Terra and Celes were in the front seats of Celes’s eight year-old Corolla in stop-and-go on the eastbound interstate. Cars zipped past them going the opposite direction, taunting them with speed and motion. Terra was nonplussed in the passenger seat, alternating between watching her surroundings with interest and working on a knitting project. Celes, on the other hand, was irritable and bored. She had to pee and the inefficiency of traffic drove her crazy. It was one thing she didn't miss about living closer to the city. “What are you making?”

“Just a cowl, in our school colors. I figured I could wear it to the football game next weekend,” she said, “I realized I didn't have anything yellow and black and everything in the school store was expensive.”

“You're really excited about this,” Celes observed. “Wish I could be half as thrilled about the opera.” She finished the sentence with a shudder in her voice. “Edgar’s really different around you, though. He’s like...polite and respectful. That's new for him.”

“What did he do that made you dislike him so much?” Terra stared out the window as traffic subsided and they started moving again. “Nothing like Gestahl, I hope. You'd tell me if he was the kind of guy who beats up women, right?”

Celes nodded. “If he was anything like that motherfucker, believe me, you would have known the minute you two first met.” Her hands tightened on the steering wheel and she took two or three deep breaths, focusing on the cars in front of her to clear her head. “I went to a Society of Women Engineers meeting a little while after the incident happened; I think it was actually the first remotely social thing that I did after my face looked normal again. Edgar was hanging around outside the meeting as I was leaving. He started talking to me, and I was actually pretty excited to have an upperclassman to chat with. I thought he could give me some good insight about the program, but after about five minutes, it was obvious that he wasn't paying attention to a word I said.”

“What was he doing?”

“Staring down my top,” Celes sighed. “I asked him what he was doing and he said that he was looking for my phone number but got lost in the scenery.”

Terra swallowed, turning Celes’s story over in her head a couple of times. “I understand your suspicion when I told you he and I were snapchatting.”

“I wrote him off as a douchebag and vowed never to speak to him again. Then, just my luck, Edgar turned out to be Locke’s best friend and therefore difficult to completely avoid, so we came to terms with each other. He eventually apologized but until very recently, he's never given me any reason to believe he was more than a rich, spoiled womanizer.”

“Whatever you said to Locke about the...eggplant...must have sunk in,” Terra commented, clearing her throat. “He hasn't done anything like that since.”

“Perhaps this is truly the beginning of a new Edgar,” Celes commented. “I pretty much decided that guys aren't worth it anymore while I wasn't speaking to Locke. I'm going through with this opera fiasco and then I’m devoting myself to studying until finals. Boys don't help you graduate with honors.”

Terra looked down at her knitting instead of at Celes. Sometimes she wondered if Celes thought less of her than she let on, because Terra could now pick out a bald faced lie when she heard one. “Well, don't swear off men entirely. I'm going to miss our Supernatural nights, now that I'm finally caught up with the latest season.”

“I solemnly swear that no matter what, I will never break up with Jensen Ackles,” Celes took one hand off the wheel and put it over her heart. “Thank god this traffic is moving, I thought I was going to go insane.”

Not long afterwards the sun was beginning to set, and Celes parked the Corolla in the long, narrow driveway at the Del Norte Marquez residence. She knocked twice to avoid startling her grandfather, and then let herself and Terra in the house.

“Grandpa, are you awake?” Celes called, and shuffling footsteps greeted the two women. Cid smiled a toothy grin and enveloped Celes in a bear hug.

“Of course I'm awake! I'm grandpa, not great-grandpa!” Cid exclaimed. He held Celes at arm’s length. “You're more grown up every time I see you.”

Celes smiled and shook her head. “This is Terra. I told you about her, remember?”

“Ah yes, your roommate!” Cid stuck his hand out and Terra shook it politely. “You must have very interesting lineage to end up with hair that color. Is it dominant in your family?”

Terra giggled and Celes sighed. “It's hair dye, Dr. Del Norte Marquez,” Terra explained.

“Young people and their wild ideas,” Cid shook his head, “Reminds me of your father’s bright idea to get a tattoo during his first tour of duty. At least hair dye goes away!”

“It's good to be home, grandpa,” Celes patted his shoulder. “I'm going to take Terra upstairs, show her my room, okay?”

“Don't be too long. I've got a big pot of chili on the stove, made with vegetables from the greenhouse.” He smiled at Terra’s concerned face. “No meat, don't worry, dear.”

“Call us when it’s ready,” Celes ran up the staircase and Terra followed behind. She opened the door at the end of the hallway and flipped on the light. “He leaves it like I had it in high school, nostalgia I guess.” She walked to the closet and opened the door, glancing over her shoulder at her roommate. “Make yourself at home. I'm gonna see if the dress is here real quick.”

Terra stood in the doorway, turning a slow semicircle. It all looked so normal: the neatly made twin bed topped with a rose-printed duvet, the immaculately organized desk covered with a thin layer of dust, the framed Imagine Dragons poster on the wall. Next to the desk was a bookshelf holding trophies and medals depicting both books and athletes, and a purple graduation cap with a silver tassel and two ropes draped over it. She crossed the room and touched the ropes. “What are these?”

“National Honors Society,” Celes explained, joining Terra by the bookshelf. “I didn't have much of a social life in high school either,” she chuckled bemusedly.

Terra felt a lump forming in her throat. “It seems awesome,” her voice wavered, “I wish I'd had a normal life like you.” She cursed herself internally for letting tears come to her eyes. She had made every effort since she had escaped from Kefka’s control to learn about the world she had never been allowed to see. Most of the time it was interesting, but something about Celes’s bedroom made her painfully aware of how abnormal she was. Terra clenched her teeth and fought back the tears in her eyes, but Celes had already noticed the change in her demeanor and crumpled her brow.

“Hey, I didn't mean to upset you by bringing you here. I thought you wanted to see the place where I grew up.” Celes set the dress that she held in her arms down on the bed and hugged Terra. “I'm sorry, I didn't know this would be hard for you.”

“I didn't either,” Terra replied, wiping a tear away with the sleeve of her hoodie. “I was really excited to see your house and your room and meet your grandfather, but for some reason it just reminded me that I'm not a normal girl, as much as I try to pretend I am.” She sniffled. “Ugh, I'm sorry. I don't want this to be awkward.”

Celes sat down on the bed and motioned for Terra to sit next to her. “Don't worry about not being normal,” she said. Soothing crying girls wasn't her strong suit, but she felt like she had to try, for her best friend’s sake. “It's not the same thing, but believe me, I felt like a weirdo a lot in high school too. I loved math and science, I preferred reading to dating and parties, and until I started high school I moved around a lot with my dad’s deployments, so I had almost no friends.” The bed sank as Terra took a seat next to her. “Dr. Leo always has to remind me that we can't go back and re-do the things we did or the way we reacted to things people did to us. I'm terrible at following his advice on this, but it sounds great when he says it.”

Terra’s mouth quirked into a small smile. “I think he has some of the same lines in his script for both of us.” She accepted the tissue that Celes handed her. “After I passed my GED courses and they released me from the halfway house, the social worker asked me what I wanted to do. I had no idea how to answer - nobody had ever given me a choice for my future. So I told them I wanted to do what I thought normal girls did: go to college and have friends and fall in love and stuff, but if I'd known it wasn't going to be as easy as it looked on TV....” She twisted the hem of her hoodie in her fingers. “Guess I'm going to have a lot to talk to Dr. Leo about next week.”

Cid’s voice called up from the bottom of the stairs. “Girls, dinner’s ready.”

Terra blotted her eyes and took a deep breath, steadying her voice. “Is your grandfather a good cook?”

“He taught me everything I know,” Celes replied.

“So...halfway decent, then?” Terra smiled.

“You're too kind. More importantly, are you going to be okay for dinner or do you want me to stall my grandpa?”

“I'm good,” Terra said, “can I wash my face before we eat?”

“Bathroom’s across the hall. Take your time, I can always distract him with my genetics classwork.” Celes squeezed Terra’s shoulder. “I'll see you downstairs.”

# # #

Locke almost always had to drive Edgar home from poker night, but this time it was Edgar’s turn to skip taking shots and get them home. He had quit drinking an hour ago, but Locke was wasted, and kept reminding Edgar of the situation.

“Dude, your truck is spinning. I'm so fucking hammered.” Locke said, climbing into the front seat.

“Get sick in the cab and you're riding in the back tonight and for the rest of your life,” Edgar warned, “I just had this thing detailed, and I am not taking Terra out in a car that smells like puke.” Edgar waited until Locke fumbled the seat belt into place before starting the car. Breaking Benjamin blasted over the radio, and Edgar quickly turned the volume down before Setzer’s neighbors could call the cops.

“Stop on the way home. I want tacos.” Locke slurred, digging in his jacket pocket for his phone. The glare of the screen was distractingly bright in the darkness.

Edgar groaned, “We're not stopping for tacos. I'm taking your ass home and then I'm going to bed. I have to meet my fucking Senior Design group tomorrow morning while you're sleeping those tequila shots off.”

“Tacos and tequila,” Locke laughed, “come on, man, I’m drunk, lemme at some tacos.” He started paging up and down through his contacts. They were stopped at a traffic light, and in his peripheral vision Edgar could see Locke pecking at the keyboard on his phone.

“Who are you drunk-texting?”

“Nobody.”

“That had better mean Celes, dude.” Edgar shook his head. “You are not gonna get Rachel back by texting her drunk love poems. At least Celes already hates all men equally.”

Locke laughed a little too loudly. “Celes doesn't hate you, she's too smart for your bullshit,” he replied. “Rachel’s smart too, really smart. I know she'll see what she's been missing when she comes back. I've been planning this for a while.”

Edgar turned down the next street, purposely taking a brief detour past Terra and Celes’s apartment. The lights were off but he could see a white cat sitting in the front window. “If she's so smart, why would she come back to her high school boyfriend in a college town when she's been in New York City for the last two years?”

“She said she was coming back on Instagram,” Locke said, leaning his overheated face on the cool window glass. “It's her mom’s 50th birthday and she's gonna surprise her.” His head felt heavy and he slouched against the car door. He pulled his phone out again and typed out a message, all thumbs, hitting send and leaning back against the window.

They pulled up in front of Locke’s apartment, and Edgar put the car into park and looked at his inebriated friend. “You should try my approach to heartbreak, man, although I'm usually the one breaking hearts instead of the other way around,” he noted, “Just go fuck someone else for a while. You live on a college campus. There is a literal revolving door of ass every day at that coffee shop. Unless you're gay or something, then I dunno what to tell you, guys don't do it for me.”

“I'm not gay,” Locke said, “and I can get Rachel back. It's my fault she's gone.” He sighed loudly.

“I liked you better when you were a happy drunk,” Edgar said. “We’re at your house. Go home, Locke. Text me if you wanna go watch the game at the bar tomorrow afternoon. We're playing against U of M, should be good.”

Locke muttered a “g’night” as he lurched out of Edgar’s truck, and Edgar waited until Locke finished throwing up in the bushes in front of his building and stumbled inside before heading for home.

# # #

The next morning, Terra woke up to the smell of freshly brewed coffee and sat up in bed, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. The bed was comfortable, and was glad that the house had a spare bedroom and she hadn't been sharing with Celes; she’d been jarred from slumber in the middle of the night by a nightmare in which she hadn't been able to escape the compound, and she had been forced to become Kefka’s slave. He had put a device on her head that controlled her mind and her ability to resist him, and she had no choice but to submit to his will. Luckily, she woke up before he did anything horrible to her, but when she opened her eyes she was sure that if the dream had continued, it would have been more than she could handle.

She hugged her knees close to her chest and wished that Mog was there; petting her behind her ears and listening to her soft purr always made Terra feel better and brought her back to reality. Terra wondered if the nightmares would ever subside, and made a note in her journal to ask Dr. Leo if he knew anything about conquering recurrent bad dreams.

There was a knock at the door, and Celes appeared in the doorway with a cup of coffee, dressed in yoga pants and a purple t-shirt emblazoned with KHS WILDCATS LACROSSE.

“Morning. Sleep okay? Grandpa had to go to the lab early this morning, but he made coffee before he left.”

“What time is it?” Terra picked up her phone. “Seriously? I didn't realize it was 9:30 already.”

“Yeah, I got up and went for a run. I already showered, figured I'd try on that dress before we headed out for the day. You said you wanted to see my high school, are you still interested after all those dumb stories my grandpa told you last night?”

“I want to see it even more now,” Terra replied. “And I saw your prom picture downstairs. It was really pretty.”

Celes laughed and shook her head. “I didn't have any interest in going to prom, but I let my friend who needed a date talk me into it. Sounds familiar, huh?" Terra followed her down the hallway, glancing at the photos on the walls that she hadn't had time to look at the day before. There were pictures of Celes as a child, of Cid shaking hands with a man in a suit, and a smiling man in full military dress with a serene-looking woman wearing a wedding gown.

“Are these your parents?” Terra stopped in front of the last photo. The woman’s blonde hair curled softly over her shoulders in loose waves, and Celes’s long, narrow face was the mirror image of the man’s. Celes nodded as she opened her bedroom door, and Terra glanced back at the photo while she followed behind. “Can I ask why you don't live with them?”

“It’s nothing tragic,” Celes turned her back to Terra, stripping off her clothes and taking the dress off the hanger. “My father is an Air Force general, he’s on special assignment overseas. Mom is with him. His assignment began when I was starting my junior year of high school, and by then I'd already decided I wanted to go to VSU for Engineering; Grandpa said I could live with him so I didn't have to leave school when I was so close to graduating.” She tugged the dress up to her hips, wiggling into the fitted skirt and bodice, and slipped the straps over her arms. “Zip me up?”

Terra tugged at the zipper, and it advanced two inches before stopping. “It doesn't seem to want to budge.”

Celes sucked in her stomach. “Hold the top with your hands and try to zip it.”

Terra pinched the beaded material together and pulled the zipper again with no luck. She tried a couple of other configurations and pursed her lips. “No luck.”

Celes swore and let out her breath with a long sigh. “Son of a bitch,” she said, “I didn't realize I had gained that much weight since high school.” She sat down on the bed and slumped her shoulders defeatedly. “I blame Calc 3, nobody can get through that class on the first try without stress eating.”

Terra smiled. “Well, this means we get to go dress shopping! That's fun, right?”

“Fun like dental work,” Celes groused. “I didn't want to spend any money on this charade, either.”

“You can't go to the opera in yoga pants,” Terra pointed out.

“Maybe I'd like it better if you could.” Celes’s tone was as sour as her expression. “I guess we should get going if we have to go to the mall, too. Towels are in the cabinet above the toilet. I'm gonna finish my coffee and add up how many coffees Locke is going to comp me to make up for the unexpected wardrobe expense.”

After Terra left and Celes heard the shower start, she stood up, letting the prom dress pool at her feet, and she changed into jeans and a flannel shirt. She picked up her phone to text Locke with the number of venti Americanos equal to the average women's formal dress, and saw that she had missed a message from him late last night.

_HI <3 MISS U N CANT WAIT TIL URE BACK. WAMT 2 C UR FACE :)_

Celes ignored the spelling mistakes and late hour of his text, focusing on her heart thudding in her throat and the anticipation filling its spot in her chest. Locke had never sent her a text like this before, and she wasn't exactly sure how to interpret it, but she couldn't deny it had promise.

She decided in that moment to revise her plan of action: she would go to the opera with Setzer as planned, only because it was too late to back out now. After the date was over and she never had to deal with Setzer again, she was going to come clean with Locke about her feelings. Celes couldn't continue to ride an emotional roller coaster; it was time to get everything out in the open once and for all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm trying to keep many canon elements in the story, even though the setting is absolutely AU. Compared to the guys (that have been introduced thus far) Terra and Celes had it pretty rough! I don't think I thought about it this much when I was playing through the game, but in trying to adapt their backgrounds to an American college universe, I feel like I'm putting the girls through the wringer and the guys have a much easier time.
> 
> Also I had this thought that Celes's parents are Jack and Sam from Stargate SG1 and realized that I probably need to think about something else for a while D:


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ionic bonding is a type of chemical bond that involves the electrostatic attraction between oppositely charged ions, and is the primary interaction occurring in ionic compounds. The ions are atoms that have lost one or more electrons (termed cations) and atoms that have gained one or more electrons (termed anions).  
> Wikipedia

Terra and Celes drove back from Cid’s house Saturday evening; he asked that they stay another night, but Celes was in no mood to socialize after spending the afternoon trying on formalwear, and Terra had a research paper due Friday that she still hadn’t started. Terra spent most of Sunday at the library, and Celes spent two hours in the morning at the gym and the rest of the afternoon in the engineering building buried in homework.

Celes was rarely glad to have a dozen calculus problems to solve, but the extreme workload helped her forget about Locke’s cryptic text message and the opera that weekend. She limited her visits to the coffee shop to busy periods when she knew Locke wouldn't have much free time, and she kept their conversation casual when they did talk or text. That week she saw more of Edgar than she did Locke; he was also practically living at the engineering building between midterms and his senior project, and he wanted all homework out of the way before the weekend in case Saturday went exceptionally well with Terra and continued into Sunday.

Edgar and Celes seemed to be synchronized in their trips to the vending machine near the labs for Red Bull Zero, and Celes was too tired and stressed by Tuesday to actively avoid running into him. As Edgar’s attraction to Terra grew, his interest in a cordial relationship with Celes also seemed to increase exponentially; to both of their surprise, they engaged in friendly banter more than once that week, a departure from their normal backhanded compliments and barbed humor. Celes reluctantly admitted to herself that she could understand what Terra saw in Edgar, but she still couldn't completely trust his intentions for her best friend.

Outside of their Thursday night Supernatural date, Terra and Celes barely saw each other all week long. Celes let Terra talk her into pizza on Thursday, and for an hour both women allowed the rigors of academia to fade into the background. Celes’s phone rang during the show and she ignored it; when she picked her phone up as the end credits rolled, she saw that the missed call was from her lab partner and she had a text from Locke.

_KNOW YOU'RE BUSY BUT WHEN YOU HAVE A SEC I NEED TO TALK TO YOU ABOUT SAT._

She sighed and said to her screen, “Please tell me it's been canceled so I can take that stupid dress back to the store and spend Saturday night on the couch.” It hung in her closet with the tags left on until the last minute, just in case.

Terra looked up from Tumblr and blinked. “Were you talking to me?”

“No, Locke just decided to remind me of my impending social commitment this weekend,” she replied dramatically. “Did you finish that scarf you were knitting, by the way?”

“Yeah, I just blocked it last night, it should be dry by now. Let me go get it,” Terra unfolded her legs from beneath herself and headed into her room, Mog following at her feet. Celes texted Locke back in the meantime.

_DOES MY DATE HAVE COLD FEET?_

She watched the dots on the screen as Locke typed his response.

_NOPE HE ACTUALLY SAID HE’S LOOKING FORWARD TO IT. HE WANTS TO SEND A CAR TO PICK YOU UP THO. HE SAYS HE REFUSES TO HAVE HIS DATE FOR THE OPERA TO BE SEEN DRIVING HERSELF OR ARRIVING IN AN UBER._

Celes couldn't remember the last time she rolled her eyes that hard. “For fuck’s sake,” she groaned, “you'd think this was some kind of Hollywood premiere swarming with paparazzi. It's the opera, and not even Lincoln Center or anything.” She was so tired of this entire production that she just decided to agree in hopes of ending the conversation sooner.

_TELL HIM TO PICK ME UP AT YOUR PLACE. HE DOESN’T NEED TO KNOW WHERE I LIVE._

Terra came out of her room wearing a fluffy black and yellow striped cowl looped twice around her neck. “You like?” She unwound the cowl from her neck and handed it to Celes.

“You're really talented,” Celes set her phone down and squished the wool in her hands. “Would you make one for me someday?”

“I'd say you're knit-worthy,” Terra said. Celes handed the cowl back to her and picked her phone back up, glancing at Locke’s acknowledgment of her request. “What does Locke want?”

“Doesn't matter,” Celes dismissed, “all I care about at this point is getting to Sunday morning and all of this being over.”

Terra nodded. “I still want to hear all about the opera, even if Setzer’s not worth talking about.”

“Sure you don't want to trade with me? Edgar and I are actually getting along now, and I'm sure I can crush a beer can on my head.” Celes said with a wry smile.

“Is he going to expect me to do that? It seems like it would hurt.” She rubbed her hand on her forehead.

“I was kidding, just reinforcing stereotypes. Just be you. He seems to like you well enough already. You're still just going as friends?” Celes put air quotes with her fingers around the last few words.

Terra nodded. “But…” she looked away, “if he wanted to kiss me...I don't think I would stop him.”

Celes raised her eyebrow. “This is new.” She had been planning to get back to her reading for Chemistry, but couldn't leave this conversation hanging.

“That's not bad, right? Dr. Leo said it wasn't, but…” Terra twisted the hem of her shirt in her fingers awkwardly. “People are always talking about girls being sluts and whores and I don't want to be either one.”

Her cause for concern ran deeper than simply what she heard some of the girls in her class saying about others. She hadn't told anyone about this other than Leo to date; as soon as Terra had hit puberty in the compound, the sermons preaching the damnation of whores and harlots had begun. At the same time, Kefka and his higher ups had a group of women that they kept as wives. The wives were often pregnant, and she had put her plans for escape into overdrive when she noticed the way the men looked at her when her body started to change. Based on the severity with which Kefka’s acolytes spoke of the “sinful masses”, Terra had thought attitudes towards sex would be much more liberal on the outside. She was surprised to find out that wasn't necessarily the case, despite the amount she saw on TV and in the movies.

“It's not bad or slutty to want a guy to kiss you, although I do question your choice of guys,” Celes replied with a smile. She thought for a moment and continued, “You’ve never been kissed, have you?”

Terra shook her head. “Add one more thing to the ‘not normal’ list, I guess,” she sighed. “You have, right?

“Just twice, other than…” She didn't finish the rest of the sentence. “The first time was in junior high school, I kissed my friend’s older brother on a dare. The second time was senior prom,” Celes laughed at herself, “the whole thing was such a cliché, it's kind of embarrassing.”

Terra had heard enough stories and seen enough high school movies to pick up what Celes was putting down. “So you're not a virgin either?” Celes smiled and shook her head sheepishly, color rising to her cheeks. “I thought your prom date was just a friend though,” Terra said, thinking back to the photo on the mantle at Cid’s house.

Celes shrugged. “I don't know...we had been accepted at different colleges and were moving away in the fall. Neither of us had ever had sex and we didn't want to leave for college as virgins, so we decided to do something about it.” She glanced at Terra, who was red-faced but hanging on Celes’s every word. “It's totally okay to be a virgin,” Celes added quickly, thinking of Edgar, “don't let anyone tell you otherwise.”

“Was it good?” Terra's voice was small but curious.

Celes laughed and shrugged her shoulders again, “It was okay, kind of awkward and over quickly. His parents were asleep upstairs and we had to keep the lights off and be really quiet. I’m convinced it gets better,” she said. Her subconscious certainly believed as much, if her dream about Locke the other night was any indication. “Anyway, enough reminiscing. Electrophilic substitutions are calling my name.”

Terra had a hundred other things she wanted to ask Celes; sex had been such a taboo subject in Kefka’s compound that other than her social worker, gynecologist, and Dr. Leo, she'd never discussed the topic before. “Yeah, I should get back to my paper,” she said reluctantly, “but tomorrow night, after I turn this paper in, all bets are off. I know you're being healthy but if a half dozen cupcakes come home with me, I hope you won't leave me hanging.”

“Depends on how my chem midterm goes.” Celes stood up and stretched. “Why don't we just quit school and hunt monsters instead? Works okay for Sam and Dean, and we could have talks like this on the hood of my Corolla.”

Terra grinned. “If elementary education doesn't pan out, I'll let you know.”

# # #

Celes parked her car in the visitor parking behind Locke’s apartment building and took several deep, calming breaths. She looked at herself in the rearview mirror and barely recognized the woman who looked back at her. Terra had been watching hair and makeup tutorials on YouTube while they ate cupcakes the night before; she insisted they try out some of the things they saw that afternoon, and it turned out that Terra was a quick study with a blending brush and an eyeshadow palette.

She slipped her feet back into the low heels that she'd worn to prom - at least those still fit - and adjusted her dress as she got out of the car. The tiny purse she carried barely held her phone and lipstick, much less her car keys and wallet. Celes silently cursed women's formalwear for being impractical in every possible way.

Celes held the hem of the dress in one hand and her purse in the other as she carefully crossed the parking lot to the entrance of Locke’s building. He buzzed her in, and she climbed the stairs to the top of of the landing, knocking on his door. She heard the TV in the background and tried to steady her nerves as the door swung open. Locke stood barefoot in the doorway wearing a Pawn Stars t-shirt and blue gym shorts, and his jaw dropped slightly at the sight of Celes in full opera attire.

“Hi,” Celes said.

Color rose up Locke's neck to his ears and face as he looked Celes over. Her hair was curled into loose waves and gathered into a ponytail at the base of her neck. She had a dark ribbon wound around her hair twice, a sharp contrast to her flaxen mane. The ribbon matched her dress, a full length, form fitting, midnight blue sleeveless affair. The dress had a high neckline paired with a low cowl back and a spray of embroidered golden roses crossed her bust from her hip to her shoulder. Tiny matching roses glittered on her earlobes and a thin gold bracelet encircled her wrist.

Celes tentatively blinked, still not convinced that the false eyelashes Terra had insisted upon weren't going to fall off at some point during the night. “Can I come in or do I have to wait outside?”

“S, sure,” Locke said, his eyes fixed on the pale stretch of Celes’s neck and shoulders as she entered his apartment. “Have you...always been this pretty?”

Celes wondered if Locke could see her blush underneath all the makeup she was wearing. “Don't get used to it,” she replied, feigning nonchalance. She checked the time on the microwave behind Locke. She still had fifteen minutes to kill, and she thought of the first time she had been to Locke’s apartment, the day after she had been released from the ER with bandages covering her face and her arm in a cast. She wanted him to take her back to the dorms as soon as they left the hospital, but he insisted on feeding her and ensuring her safety before driving her home.

“Hey, Locke...why did you stand up for me back then? That night outside the frat house?” _If you hadn't come across me when you did, I might be dead right now,_ she finished in her head.

Locke sat down on the couch and shrugged, taking his lukewarm beer from the coffee table and picking at the label. “...Because I'm tired of standing by and doing nothing while I lose the girls I like,” he finally responded.

“But you didn't even know me,” Celes replied, clutching her purse tightly.

“That doesn't mean I wasn’t going to help you,” Locke said, slowly peeling the damp paper from the bottle while he talked. “Look, I lost someone close to me just before I met you. I felt like there was nothing I could do to help her when she needed it, and I realized too late that wasn't the case. So when I saw that son of a bitch hurting you...it was like I had another chance.”

Celes silently processed everything Locke was saying. He had never mentioned this topic before. “...do you still have feelings for her?" she finally asked.

Locke set the beer bottle down on the table next to the pile of label shreds. “That ribbon looks good on you,” he said abruptly.

Celes bit the inside of her lip. She didn't know if the butterflies in her stomach were from Locke’s responses or not having eaten since lunch. Before she could say anything else, Locke’s phone flashed and buzzed on the coffee table.

“Hello?” He paused. “Okay, cool. She'll be down in a minute. Thanks.” He hung up the phone. “The driver’s out front,” Locke said to Celes, and she nodded. “You look about as thrilled as someone going in for a root canal.”

“Funny, I compared this date to dental work as well,” Celes quipped. “I guess this is it. I certainly hope whatever debt you owe Setzer is settled now.”

Locke smiled. “Try to have fun. Call me if you need anything at all.”

One step at a time, she descended the stairs and left the apartment building to find a stretch limousine waiting outside the door. “Jesus Christ,” she muttered, “who does this guy think he is?”

“Miss Chere,” the driver said, opening the door, and Celes glanced one last time at Locke’s window before climbing into the limousine. She hadn't been in one since the ceremony for her father’s promotion from Major to General so many years ago. She stretched her legs out across the long leather seat and noticed a bottle of champagne in the cooler across from her. She fingered the label, reading the name out loud to herself. Celes didn't know much about champagne, but she was certain this single bottle probably cost more than she spent on food for an entire week.

The driver looked back through the small window separating the drivers’ area from the passenger cabin. “Compliments of Mr. Gabbiani,” he said.

“Does Mr. Gabbiani know I'm not old enough to drink?” Celes asked sarcastically.

The driver turned back towards the steering wheel and started the engine. “I'm simply the limousine driver, miss. Please press the button below the window should you require anything.” He closed the window and Celes was once again alone.

“I should have brought lecture notes to review,” she said aloud to herself. She took her phone out of her tiny purse, texted Terra the selfie she'd promised, then settled back into the sumptuous leather seat. Before long, the warmth of the heated leather and the white noise in the cabin was beginning to put her to sleep. Celes had been overworked all week and so tense last night that she decided to close her eyes for ten minutes, and before she knew it there was a knock at the window.

“Miss Chere. We've arrived,” the driver said, and Celes awoke with a start. She checked her reflection in the mirrored console and briefly contemplated opening the champagne to calm herself down before deciding against it. Instead, she touched up her lipstick in the mirror, adjusted her dress again, and set her shoulders high. _It’s showtime, Celes. You got this._

The limousine came to a stop and the door opened. Celes slid over to the left hand side of the vehicle; it occurred to her that she didn't even know what Setzer looked like, and she was pretty sure a Mustang GT wasn't going to be her date for the opera.

She saw Setzer’s arm and hand before she saw his face. His white shirt had French cuffs and silver cufflinks studded with amethysts in the shape of card suits. Celes took his hand and let him help her out of the backseat, knowing that if she tried to do it alone she would probably trip over the hem of her dress and fall flat on her face. She refused to show him an iota of weakness.

Standing on the sidewalk in front of her was a man she estimated about five years her senior. The first thing that caught her eye was his long silver hair, which fell below his shoulder blades; the second was the scars on his face, one crossing his forehead and splitting his left eyebrow in half, and the other extending from his cheekbone to his chin. Setzer was thin and about her height; were she barefoot, she would be looking him in the eye. Celes made the determination that she could probably put up a decent fight against him, and filed that information away in case it became necessary.

“You must be Celes Chere,” he said, and she didn't even realize he was still holding her hand until he lifted it to his lips and kissed her across her knuckles.

“And you must be Setzer Gabbiani,” Celes removed her hand from Setzer’s. “Shall we head inside? The opera must be starting soon.” A breeze had started blowing and she felt a chill over her exposed arms and back.

“Seating doesn't begin for a half hour. I thought we could have a drink beforehand,” Setzer offered his arm to her, and Celes crossed her arms over her chest.

“I take it Locke didn't mention to you that I'm not old enough to drink,” she replied, and Setzer laughed and shook his head.

“What's life without breaking the rules from time to time? Besides, I thought the reason people went to college was to be drunk from Thursday night until Tuesday morning,” he said, starting towards the entryway of the opera house, and Celes followed at his side. In her two-inch heels she was barely taller than Setzer and felt vaguely self-conscious, but her height didn't seem to bother Setzer at all.

“Maybe some people, but not me,” she replied. Once they were inside, her focus shifted from her date to her surroundings, and she slowly turned in a circle, taking in the beautiful Art Deco interior of the building. Impossibly high square columns gave way to an arched ceiling with dark metal and antiqued glass chandeliers. Her parents had taken her to a theater performance once or twice when she was a child, but seeing a historic building like this was a different experience.

Setzer used her distraction to wander off to the bar. He had no idea what she drank, but a sparkling white wine was never a bad choice. While the bartender poured their drinks, Setzer took the opportunity to have a long look at Celes, observing the fall of her hair over her shoulders and the curve of her hip into her waist, wondering idly if what she wore underneath that dress was as interesting as the garment itself.

The bartender handed Setzer a glass of prosecco and a vodka tonic, and he left a generous tip before maneuvering his way back through the crowd to Celes, who was reading an inscription on one of the many historical plaques scattered around the building.

“Architecture an interest of yours?” Setzer placed his hand on her shoulder, and she stepped away from his touch. Taking her coolness in stride, he offered the glass to her. “It's prosecco. Very low alcohol. You'd look ridiculous drinking a Shirley Temple in that ensemble.”

Celes took the wine glass from Setzer, holding it dismissively in her hand with no intention to drink it. _Unbelievable,_ she thought to herself. For some reason, she thought that he would be different from all of the other fuckboys she knew on campus, but it seemed that Setzer was just an older, higher-end model, albeit a higher-end model in a very nicely tailored suit. The sleek cut of the jacket, silk tie, tailored pants and French cuffs were quite a departure from her high school prom date’s rental tuxedo and the collegiate dating uniform of a polo shirt and Dockers. For a moment she was glad that she had traded her prom dress for the gown she wore tonight, and then remembered how irritated she was to be wearing a dress in the first place. She set her jaw and pressed her lips into a thin smile. “Sort of,” Celes replied. “I took an elective course for one of my humanities requirements.”

“I see,” Setzer nodded, sipping his drink. “Locke says you're very devoted to your studies. What’s your major?”

Celes nodded. “I’m in the bioengineering program, with a focus on genetics.”

“Genetic engineering, that's a hell of a commitment,” Setzer said thoughtfully. He wondered to himself how Locke found girls who were not only as hot but also as smart as Celes seemed to be. He hadn't known a girl with both traits in equal measure for a long while. “Doesn't leave you with much free time, huh?”

“I told you, I'm not at school to party. I'm here to get a degree, not a husband or alcohol poisoning.” She folded her arms across her chest again, careful to not spill on herself. “What else did our friend Locke tell you about me?”

“Let's see,” Setzer stroked his chin pensively. “You drive an eight-year old Corolla that was your father’s car. You don't trust people easily. You're fiercely independent, and you're far too intelligent to be wasting your time with a guy like him.” Celes’s eyes went wide.

“Did Locke really say all those things?” Flames ignited behind cool blue irises, and Setzer smiled behind his glass. This was turning out to be more fun than he expected; it seemed Celes was a fireball beneath her icy shell.

“He did say the first, and I deduced the second two from your requests for tonight and our conversation, but I assume I'm not too far off the mark,” he replied, “The last one’s purely my opinion.” He smiled at her, small lines forming around his eyes. “I guess Locke didn't tell you that I'm an excellent poker player. A side effect of that is a talent for reading people’s expressions.” He glanced over his shoulder. “They're going to seat people soon. I'm going to step outside for a cigarette. I don't suppose you smoke,” he said.

Celes shook her head no, leaning against a column while she waited for Setzer to return. She pulled out her phone and read Terra’s text message, accompanied by a selfie of Terra and Edgar, both smiling and red-cheeked from the fall chill.

_I DON’T REALLY GET ANY OF THIS FOOTBALL STUFF BUT IT’S COOL TO BE AT THE GAME. HOPE YOU’RE HAVING FUN! YOU LOOK GREAT! <3 <3_

She shook her head and typed back.

_HE’S A FUCKBOY IN AN EXPENSIVE SUIT. I HAD A NICE NAP IN THE LIMO, THOUGH. GLAD YOU GUYS ARE HAVING A GOOD TIME :D_

Setzer returned a few moments later, extending his arm to her again. “Wouldn't want you to trip on the stairs in those heels.”

“What makes you think I would trip?” Celes looked around for a place to leave her wine glass, and Setzer took it from her, walking it over to the bar before returning to her side. Celes sighed and slipped her arm through his. He felt a lot more solid than he looked, and while she hated cigarette smoke there was something about the way he smelled that she couldn't simply ignore.

“I told you, I'm in the business of observing people, especially beautiful women like yourself,” he said, and Celes bristled slightly. “I’d bet a pretty penny that you don't wear heels often.”

“You would win that bet,” she replied coolly, putting his intoxicating scent out of her mind. “I prefer Converse to Christian Louboutin.”

Setzer allowed himself a moment to consider Celes in a pair of red-bottomed stilettos, filing that mental image for later. “Up these stairs and to the left,” he said, “our seats are right at the edge of the balcony.”

“Impressive. Did you win these seats in a poker game?” Celes sat down and observed the view of the stage. She assumed they would be in the upper level with an obstructed view, not front and center, and she considered taking a picture of the interior of the hall to show Terra later.

“Ah, that's not important,” Setzer said dismissively, settling into his chair, “Let's just say I know how to negotiate much better than our barista friend Locke. Overall, I got the much better end of the deal.”

Celes set her program book and purse down on her lap. “Oh? He said he owed you a favor.”

Setzer smiled at Celes as the lights dimmed and the orchestra began to warm up their instruments. “I had a pair of opera tickets that I didn't want to waste. He needed to borrow a car to impress his ex-girlfriend that he's still hopelessly in love with.”

She blinked incredulously. “He...what?”

“He's got some idea that showing up at her house in a sports car is going to make her take him back.” Setzer shrugged. “I'd say he's got a lot more to lose.”

Celes was speechless, her fingers tightening around her purse. She swallowed and took a deep breath. _Locke traded me for a second chance with another woman. He used my friendship as a means to an end. He had to know how I felt something for him, and he did this anyway?_ As Setzer’s words set in, Celes was thankful for the darkened hall and the beginning of the overture from the orchestra pit. She didn't want anyone to see the anger in her eyes or her hands clenched into fists, her gold-polished nails digging into the palms of her hands hard enough to leave marks.

At the first intermission, the lights came back on amidst thunderous applause. Celes clapped out of respect, although she had only intermittently been paying attention to the performance. Her thoughts had taken precedent over all other stimuli, though she did attempt to look interested whenever she noticed Setzer glance at her.

“Ah, that was excellent,” Setzer said, standing up to stretch his legs. “Love in the time of war is a classic, and the soprano has an amazing voice, don't you think?”

“She does have range,” Celes replied, rising from her seat. She considered asking Setzer to call the limousine back so that she could go home, take off these uncomfortable clothes, and eat an entire pint of ice cream curled up in bed with Mog.

“Excuse us,” Celes heard someone say behind her, and Setzer put his hand on Celes’s bare back, pressing gently between her shoulder blades to move her closer to him, clearing the aisle for the other patrons to pass. His cool hand against her spine contrasted with his warm breath against her cheek, and she noted that he smelled like leather, cologne of some sort, and of course tobacco smoke. It was a definite departure from Axe and Old Spice, and she decided that she liked it.

As soon as the aisle was empty, Celes stepped away from Setzer and he wordlessly removed his hand from her back. “I'm going out for a sec before Act Two. Can I get you anything?” He reached in his jacket pocket and took out his cigarettes, tapping the pack against his palm.

Celes considered her options: sit alone in the crushed velvet seats and feel sorry for herself, or attempt to make the best of the next hour and a half of her life. She took a deep breath, threw caution to the wind, and smiled. “You know, I think I'll take you up on that drink. Love triangles are easier to stomach with a glass of wine.”

“Draco and Maria and Prince Ralse are a little overwrought, aren't they? But you know, other than Shakespearian tragedy in which everyone dies, people normally end up with who they're supposed to in the end.”

They descended from the balcony to the bar, and Setzer ordered a drink for both of them while Celes stood a few yards away. “Watch mine for a minute? I'll be done in a sec.” He left Celes alone for a moment, and she took a sip of her drink, noting that he must trust her quite a bit to leave his drink with her like this; she certainly wouldn't take a drink from a guy that she didn't see poured. She wasn't much of a drinker at all, so her experience was limited to what her parents had let her try and a couple of frat parties Gestahl had taken her to. Prosecco was different, slightly sweet and bubbly, and quite delicious. It tasted like a better version of the cheap champagne she'd snuck during toasts at family weddings.

By the time Setzer came back, Celes was more than halfway through her drink, and she remembered she hadn't eaten since lunch when she took a step towards him and felt the room shift.

“I see you're a prosecco fan,” Setzer said, and he let his fingers brush against Celes’s when he took his drink back from her. “Did you have any of the champagne in the limousine?” She shook her head in response. “Well, maybe on the ride home you should try some.”

“How did you get here?” Celes raised her eyebrow at him, his brief touch still lingering on her hand. “And how are you getting home?”

“An associate drove me here,” Setzer replied nonchalantly, “How I get home depends entirely on you.”

Celes drained the last of the wine in her glass. Normally, she would find his comments distasteful and off putting, but her emotional state was currently vacillating between a boiling cauldron of anger and an empty bucket of apathy.

 _Ah, fuck it, she decided, fuck Locke and his stupid girlfriend, fuck sweet Responsible Celes who always gets screwed over._ “So what was the over-under on not going home alone tonight, Mr. Gambler?”

Setzer’s mouth curled into a smile. “It was a long shot,” he said, slipping his free hand around her back to settle in the small of her back, “but I like to bet against the odds.” He drained the rest of his drink and looked at Celes, waiting for her to shrug his hand away as she had every other time he had touched her that night. She didn't move, though her body tensed beneath his hand. “Would you like another drink?”

Celes thought for a moment. “I'm not the kind of girl who goes home with guys she just met,” she said. “Maybe Locke didn't tell you that.”

“That doesn't answer my question about another drink,” he replied, taking her empty wine glass from her. “I'm going to have one, are you going to join me?”

She knew she probably shouldn't have another; Celes could feel her guard beginning to slip. When he removed his hand from her back she realized she had relaxed against him and quickly straightened her stance. She couldn't deny that the prosecco helped her forget her gutted feelings, and an added side effect was that Setzer's company had become much more welcome.

“Just one more,” she said with a smile, and excused herself to the ladies’ room while he went to the bar. Celes stood in the crowded lavatory washing her hands and gazed at herself in the mirror. Her thoughts went back to Locke, who was probably sitting at home Facebook-stalking some girl from his past, not even thinking about Celes in passing. Setzer, on the other hand, was outside waiting for her return, and she licked her lips nervously; she wasn't as gullible and naive as Locke thought she was, and had a fair idea of how he wanted the evening to end.

A calm voice sounded over the speaker. “Ladies and gentlemen, intermission will end in ten minutes. Please return to your seats in a prompt fashion to begin Act Two.”

Celes adjusted her ponytail and quickly reapplied her lipstick, catching a glimpse of herself in the full length mirror. She left the ladies’ room with an extra sway in her hips and returned to Setzer, taking her drink from him and finishing half the glass in one swallow.

“Intermission’s almost over,” she said. “Should we go back for Act Two?” Her head buzzed pleasantly with the alcohol, and she moved closer to Setzer. Celes decided if the opportunity presented itself, she wanted to bury her face in his hair and breathe in his scent, just for a moment.

“Well,” Setzer said, “as much as I'd love to find out whether Maria ends up with Draco or Prince Ralse, I'd actually rather learn more about you.” He leaned against the bar and sipped the clear liquid in his glass. “Your call. Locke informed me of your deep appreciation for the opera, I'd hate to steal you away before it's over.”

Her eyes narrowed to slits, hoping he was being sarcastic. Celes took another drink of her wine and hummed thoughtfully. “Where would we go? I can't go to bars outside of college towns, they all check ID.” Her voice of reason was screaming at her to come to her senses, but she had already decided she wasn't going to be Responsible Celes tonight.

Setzer took his phone out of his jacket pocket and called the limousine driver. “Yes...it’s me, we’re ready now...yes, I’ll be accompanying her,” he said, glancing back at Celes, who was finishing her second glass of prosecco. “The driver will be here in ten minutes. Let's wait outside, I'm going to smoke again.”

As the crowd entered the hall again, Celes and Setzer left their empty glasses on the bar and slipped out in the opposite direction into the cool night. She shivered involuntarily, and Setzer removed his pack of cigarettes from his jacket pocket before shrugging it off and draping it over her shoulders. Celes wrapped it around herself and watched Setzer light his cigarette and draw a lungful of smoke.

“I know you said you don't smoke, but you know, some people ‘don't smoke’ until they know people don't give a shit.” Setzer exhaled into the air, his white breath mixing with the smoke to form a small cloud. He looked at her sideways. “Nah, you're one of those good girls, aren't you? Probably never smoked anything in your life.”

She rolled her eyes at his typecasting. “I don't smoke, but it's not because I'm a 'good girl' as you say,” Celes said, “it's just a bad habit to get into.” She crossed her arms underneath Setzer’s jacket and rubbed her hands vigorously over her bare skin.

“Everyone’s got bad habits,” Setzer replied, stubbing out his cigarette in the receptacle on the street corner. “Makes life more interesting. You've got to have at least one vice,” he said, looking at Celes. “C’mon, level with me. What's your poison? I'm a sucker for V8 engines, high-stakes poker, and blondes,” he said. “Oh, and musical theater. Can't forget that.”

“Coffee,” Celes replied, “and pizza. It's all fat and carbs and I love it.” Her stomach growled, and she was again reminded of why the alcohol was hitting her so quickly.

Setzer raised his eyebrow at the noise. “I know you told Locke that I couldn't take you to dinner before the opera, but since it’s after the opera?”

Celes bristled at the mention of Locke and extended her arm to Setzer as the limousine pulled up on the curb. “Bacon and pineapple is my favorite.”

He smiled and linked his arm through hers. “I know just the place.”

# # #

A half hour later, the limousine was parked along the lakeshore, and Celes and Setzer sat on a park bench eating huge greasy pizza slices out of cardboard boxes. Celes was grateful for the food but didn't feel any less drunk; she thought back to the bottle of champagne that was still chilling in the limousine, and she glanced over at Setzer, who had loosened his tie and rolled up his sleeves to eat. The moonlight glinted off his silver hair, and she wondered how someone so young had hair that color. As she observed him through hazy eyes, Celes kept finding more that she wanted to know about him, which was surprising considering how much she disliked the idea of Setzer Gabbiani three hours ago.

“I Googled you before I agreed to go out with you,” Celes said, leaning towards him ever so slightly. “How do you feel about that?”

“I feel like you're smarter than a lot of girls your age,” he said. “Find anything good? I haven't searched for myself for a while.”

“Cars. That's it. What do you actually do? You live in a college town but you wear stuff like this,” she motioned to the suit, “and do stuff like this,” she motioned to the limousine and towards the opera house. “Please don't tell me you deal drugs, steal cars, or something equally shady.”

“You watch too much TV,” Setzer laughed. “I own an auto custom shop, and as I told you before, I'm a fairly decent gambler. All of this,” he waved his hands in front of himself, “is part business sense and part Lady Luck,” he explained. “As for the college town, land is cheap but close enough to the city to keep a strong customer base. I've got six cars, it'd be hard to find a place down here to keep them.”

“Have you always lived near Vector?”

“Nope, grew up here in the city,” he said, “moved to Vector a couple of years ago, but that's an old story, not worth telling tonight.” He thought briefly of Darill and shook his head, gathering the pizza boxes and pile of napkins. “So, what now, Celes?”

“What do you want to do?” She looked at Setzer through her thick, dark eyelashes and smiled her best coy smile.

“I'll be honest, I want to get out of here,” he said, his voice low. “I've been thinking about being alone with you ever since you stepped out of that limousine earlier tonight.” Setzer brushed his fingertips across her cheek, and Celes watched his movements through the prosecco haze. _I should tell him to take me back to my apartment, no funny business, right now._ His fingertips were full of promise, and she quickly silenced Responsible Celes. 

“I told you I don't go home with guys I just met,” she said. “But I suppose we could leave the rest of the evening to chance.” Her smile turned from coy to sly, and Setzer crossed his arms, watching her curiously.

“You're speaking my language, sweetheart.” Setzer flashed Celes a brilliant grin. “What do you have in mind?”

“How about we make a little wager,” Celes produced a coin from her tiny purse. “Heads, you take me home. Tails, we go back to your place.” She swallowed, a tiny nervous quaver in her voice as she laid out her terms.

Setzer laughed sharply. “Ha! I like it! I accept!” He rubbed his hands together eagerly.

“Ready?” She flipped the coin, caught it in her hand, and slapped it on the bench between them. “Heads, I win.” Celes sat back with a cat-ate-the-canary look on her face. “Now it's time for you to hold up your end of the bargain.”

He picked up the coin and examined it, shaking his head bemusedly. “I've never seen a double-headed coin before,” Setzer said. He looked up from the coin to Celes, smiling proudly at her handiwork. His ego was slightly bruised, but that feeling was secondary to the desire to kiss the smirk right off of her lips.

“I'm afraid you've been hustled, Mr. Gambler.” Celes stood up from the bench, dusting off her backside.

“I love it,” Setzer said darkly. He grasped Celes’s hand in his, pulling himself to her level and kissing her without warning.

Celes’s eyes flew open with surprise; she hoped Setzer would kiss her but hadn't been expecting it to happen like this. She stopped thinking of ideal circumstances and scenarios and refocused her attention on the motion of his lips against hers. She hungrily responded, yielding to his experience for a moment before breaking away. His kisses were intoxicating like the drinks that had preceded them; she was lightheaded, heart pounding and hands shaking. Celes didn't know if it was the liquor or Setzer or a combination thereof, but she knew she wanted more.

“Let's get out of here,” Setzer said, and Celes followed him quickly to the limousine. He opened the back door and Celes slid into the vehicle. Setzer closed the door behind and spoke to the driver through the window. When he turned back to Celes, she'd taken off his jacket, kicked off her shoes and was lounging barefoot on the long leather seat.

Her brain felt heavy and she reclined against the headrest for support. “I slept all the way here,” she said, “it's a pretty comfortable ride. Your taste in music sucks but I can appreciate this.” Celes reached over to the chiller and took out the bottle of champagne. “And this,” she said, “this is probably way better than prosecco, huh?”

“I'm sure it is,” Setzer replied, “this bottle was a gift from a friend, so I suppose if it's terrible we’ve got him to blame.” As he talked, Setzer wiggled the cork free and the bottle opened with a satisfying pop as the limousine started moving. He poured two full glasses, handing one to Celes and raising his own. “Thank you for a lovely evening.”

She tapped her glass on his and took a long swallow of champagne. It was a little bit dry for her tastes, but the bubbles buzzed pleasantly through her system, leaving behind a warm sensation low in her belly. Her tongue flicked out to catch a drop from her lips, and Setzer watched her with intent. He slid down the seat next to Celes, pressing his hip against hers and draping his arm over her shoulder. Setzer could feel her breathing and see the flush in her cheeks, and he let his fingers dance along her bare arm until she trembled.

“Are you going to...kiss me again?” Celes looked into his eyes, her pupils wide and dark. Setzer could smell the champagne on her breath as she spoke, her face so close to his he could nearly taste it on her lips as well.

“Is that what you want?” His hand moved from her arm to the back of her neck, and he set his glass down in the cup holder behind him. “No more games.” Setzer’s index finger tilted her chin upwards, and traced over Celes’s parted lips.

“Kiss me,” Celes whispered against his fingertips, and he gracefully obliged, crushing his lips against hers and twining his fingers in her hair. She was stiff against him at first but relaxed as they kissed again, his hands began to trail up her neck and down her back, making slow circles between her shoulder blades. Setzer felt her release her grasp on the back of his shirt and move her hands to his shoulders, pulling him closer.

Celes had never been kissed like this before. Setzer’s technique was worlds apart from the awkward, fumbling kisses in her prom date’s basement, and she didn't want to spoil the moment by thinking of Gestahl. His kisses seemed to last forever, one leading into the next, and his touch on her skin lingered after he moved his away. She broke free for a moment to wet her lips and throat with another drink of champagne, and she saw Setzer do the same.

Courage surged within her. Celes finished her champagne with one last swallow and set it in the cup holder, sliding back towards Setzer and taking the initiative this time to kiss him. He made a satisfied noise and stroked her mouth open with his tongue; she tasted champagne, cigarette smoke, and a hint of pepperoni pizza. They explored each other's mouths, punch drunk on alcohol and hormones, and Celes realized the effect she was having on him as she pressed her body against his.

Setzer pulled away from Celes, hands on her shoulders. He took in her blue eyes framed by impossibly long eyelashes, her soft reddened cheeks and lips, and the rise and fall of her chest. “I don't want to stop here,” he said, his hands moving to her back, gliding along the fabric of her dress. Setzer found the zipper along her side, and fingered the metal fastening while holding her gaze with his violet eyes.

She thought her heart was going to burst out of her chest at the rate as it was pounding. Celes wasn't sure what had come over her, but in spite of this she knew exactly what she wanted, and if Setzer’s kisses were any indication he wouldn't disappoint. “Do you, um…” she swallowed, glancing away for a moment, “do you have any protection?”

Setzer’s eyes lit up similar to when she had challenged him to the coin toss. He reached over her to his jacket pocket and produced a condom, grinning at her. “I told you, I like to bet against the odds.” He watched the color spread to the rest of her face while desire stayed strong in her eyes. “Have you done this before?” As much as Setzer wanted Celes, he wasn't as interested in taking someone’s virginity.

Celes nodded, her teeth worrying her lip slightly, and Setzer’s gaze turned predatory. He slid the small window to the driver open and said in a low voice, “If we get back to Vector before I open this window again, just find a place to park that won't draw attention.”

“Understood,” the driver said as the window snapped shut. He turned the music up in his cabin and changed the GPS route to take the most indirect route possible. “Kids,” he said with a shake of his head. “Better than vomit all over the backseat, I guess.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The opera house is based on the Civic Opera House in Chicago, for reference. It's a pretty cool building.
> 
> Yeah, I totally cribbed some of the dialogue from the game for this chapter :)


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Assimilation is how humans perceive and adapt to new information. It is the process of fitting new information into pre-existing cognitive schemas. It occurs when humans are faced with new or unfamiliar information and refer to previously learned information in order to make sense of it. In contrast, accommodation is the process of taking new information in one's environment and altering pre-existing schemas in order to fit in the new information. This happens when the existing schema (knowledge) does not work, and needs to be changed to deal with a new object or situation.  
> (Wikipedia)

Edgar parked his truck at the stadium, killing the engine and glancing over at Terra in the passenger seat. “C’mon, let’s get going,” he said with a brilliant smile. “My brother’s in the starting lineup today, I don't want to miss kickoff.”

Terra unbuckled her seatbelt and climbed out of the truck cab. “This is different than the car you had the other day,” she commented, reaching up to close the door. She ran her fingers over the shiny chrome handle and gingerly touched the sparkling black finish. It reminded her of nail polish that she'd admired while shopping for makeup that morning at the drugstore.

“Yeah, the truck’s a pain in the ass to park downtown, but push comes to shove it's my baby,” Edgar replied. “I've had the 3 Series for a while, but this was my 21st birthday present to myself.” They walked together towards the stadium entrance, joining the swarm of fans waiting to get in. Terra noticed Edgar’s arm casually drape over her shoulders, and she allowed him to pull her closer, if only to avoid getting separated. Crowds of people were still difficult for her, and she took a deep breath and tried to focus on Edgar rather than the dozen strangers pressed against her. 

She heard Edgar’s voice through the discord and looked up at him. “Sorry,” Terra furrowed her brow, “I'm not so good with crowds. What did you ask?”

“We’ll be through the gates soon,” he said, squeezing her shoulder with his hand. “I just asked if you liked to drive.”

She let out a small sigh. “I can't drive,” she admitted shyly, silently adding another item to her list of personal abnormalities that seemed to grow every day. “I never learned, but I think I'd like to someday.”

“Seriously? Where the heck did you grow up that you didn't learn how to drive?” Edgar sounded incredulous, and Terra stared down at her shoelaces, suddenly thankful for the jostling and raucousness of the fans packing into the stadium. Terra hoped that Edgar would be distracted by entry logistics and forget about their conversation before he started to ask more questions.

She looked out at the stands, a sea of black and yellow on one side, red and white on the other. In the middle of the week she'd had a moment of panic when she realized she didn't even know how football was played, but Celes helped assuage that concern when she admitted that she also neither knew nor cared to know much about the sport, and outside of Edgar’s brother had no idea who played for their team.

“Follow me,” Edgar said, taking Terra’s hand and leading her confidently towards the box seating. They passed a group of men about Edgar’s age carrying plastic cups of beer who loudly greeted Edgar, slapping him on the back and bumping shoulders. The beer sloshed in their cups and Terra stepped quickly out of the way to avoid it.

“Who's this, bro?” one of them said, motioning at Terra. “I don't recognize her - but I almost never do, ya know?”

Edgar laughed and shook his head sheepishly. “Fuck off, Arvis. She's a friend.”

“They're all friends at first, aren't they?” Arvis slurred. He was clearly already drunk, and the game hadn't even started. Edgar turned towards Terra and added, “Terra, I usually call this guy ‘douchebag’ if that's easier to remember.”

Terra forced a small smile. “Hi,” she said, wondering if she could possibly feel further out of her element than she did right now. “Um, didn't you want to see the kickoff?” As much as she liked Edgar, his friends made her nervous. She remembered Celes’s stories about Edgar’s playboy reputation and hoped that Arvis was also exaggerating the truth.

“She's right,” Edgar said, and one of the guys made a whipping noise. “C’mon, let's go get a real beer, I'm not gonna drink piss water like these guys.” Arvis jeered again and the group meandered drunkenly away. After they were out of earshot, Edgar glanced down at Terra, who was smiling through her concern. “Hey, don't listen to those guys, okay? Not all of my friends are nice like you.”

They arrived at the box seats, and Terra felt her anxiety subside as soon as they were away from the swarms of people outside. There were about a dozen other people in their box, which seemed to be reserved for family members of the players. She wasn't sure she was going to be able to enjoy the game, no matter how happy she was to be with Edgar, but thankfully the semi-private room was much more to her liking.

Terra declined Edgar’s offer for a drink, claiming that she hated the taste of beer. He returned with a Coke for Terra and a beer for himself, and settled in next to her as the marching band left the field and the players jogged out in a line of black and yellow.

“Which one is your brother?” Terra squinted to see the names on the back of the jerseys. All the players had helmets on so she couldn't see any faces from where they sat.

“74,” Edgar said, “the huge guy there in the middle. He played center in high school and for a year at Thamasa Tech but they moved him to left tackle when he started playing for us,” he explained. “I'm proud of him, he's had scouts watching him and he's had a couple of opportunities to quit school and go professional, but he's committed to finish his degree before he enters the NFL draft.” Edgar smiled awkwardly at Terra’s blank look. “I guess you're not really a football fan, either?”

She refused to let the situation become any more awkward. “Well,” Terra summoned her internal optimist and pasted a grin on her face, “here's your opportunity to make me into a fan. Teach me everything you know. Did you play football too?”

“Nah, sports are Sabin’s thing. I was homecoming king, I did student government to keep my dad happy, and as dorky as it sounds, I was co-chair of the robotics club. I like football, but I just watch and bet on the games,” Edgar took a thoughtful sip of his beer, and motioned to the players taking positions on the field. “I'm glad he transferred here, though.”

"King Edgar, has a nice ring to it," Terra relaxed in her seat next to Edgar. She watched the black and yellow players arrange themselves in front of the red and white players, training her eye on number 74. She decided it would be a small victory if she understood what Sabin did by the end of the game, and focused on his actions. “He didn't always go to VSU?”

Edgar shook his head. “He got a scholarship to Thamasa Tech in Hawaii to play for their team right out of high school. Dad didn't want him to go, but they didn't always get along so well.”

“Why not?” Terra took a sip of her Coke and twisted the fabric of her sleeve between her fingers. “If you don't mind my asking.”

“Nah, you're good. Dad wanted me and Sabin to follow in his footsteps and go into finance and politics. Sabin didn't want any of that, so when TT offered him a full ride, he jumped at the chance to get away. I miss having an excuse to go to Hawaii on the regular, but the time apart was good for us. We’re closer now than before he left.” He cheered along with the rest of the crowd at a pass completion, then slung his arm over the back of Terra’s seat. “Enough about me, though. We've been friends for a month now and I barely know anything about you. What did you do in high school? I bet you were an artist or something.”

Terra’s stomach knotted and a lump rose in her throat. She had a fabricated history that she always told when she had to introduce herself in classes and study groups, but it seemed like lying for deception instead of protection when she thought about telling Edgar. The truth still wasn't something she could easily share, especially with someone as normal as him.

“I...um...I was home-schooled,” Terra fibbed, “we lived on a...farm out in the country, and my parents were pretty strict.” Some people still thought this was strange, but she knew it was at least socially acceptable; in most people’s minds, growing up in a religious cult led by a psychopath with a god complex was the stuff of movies, not reality. Terra dreaded the day that she would have to tell Edgar; Celes had been shocked and she already knew that Terra wasn't an average college freshman. Edgar would immediately reject her for being a freak.

“Well, I'm glad you decided to go to school here,” Edgar replied, and abruptly jumped out of his chair, startling Terra. “GO GO GO YES! Touchdown!” he crowed, high-giving the man seated next to him. “Third down, first quarter, we’re already ahead.” He grinned at Terra. “Just follow my lead, ok? Cheer when I cheer. Nobody’ll even know you don't have any idea what's going on.” She stood up next to him and he explained the two-point conversion. Edgar whooped joyfully as the ball sailed through the goalposts. Terra clapped and cheered, feeding off of Edgar’s enthusiasm.

As he stuck two fingers in his mouth and whistled, Edgar watched Terra from the corner of his eyes. This was the first time he'd seen her eyes light up since he’d picked her up at her apartment. Her cheeks were flushed as she looked up at him, and he was suddenly consumed with the desire to kiss her. He wouldn't hesitate if she was his typical short-term booking, but there was something different about Terra. It wasn't her green hair, unconventional upbringing, or choice of friends, though he did admit that Celes had been nicer to him that past week than in the entire time he'd known her. Terra was unexpectedly intriguing, and as much as he’d thought about sleeping with her tonight, he realized that an attempt at this point would drive her away.

Terra pulled her phone out of her pocket, turned her back towards the field, and grinned at Edgar. “Selfie?”

“Of course,” he replied, echoing her wide grin and hugging Terra close to him. She snapped a couple of pictures and opened her texts to send one to Celes, finding a picture that she had sent to Terra an hour or so prior.

“Wow,” Terra said aloud, and Edgar leaned over curiously to look at the photo on her screen.

“Holy shit, is that Celes?” he said incredulously. “Boy, she cleans up nice. Locke's an idiot, I swear to god.”

“Oh…” Terra said, “you know that she likes him?”

Edgar rolled his eyes. “Everyone knows she likes him. If that dumbass wasn't so hung up on the past, he would too. Actually, I think he does know Celes wants him, he just won't acknowledge it because he's so sure Rachel will come back to him.”

Terra quickly fired off the photo to Celes. “Who’s Rachel?”

“His ex-girlfriend,” Edgar explained, polishing off the last of his beer. “I like the guy, but he's such a pussy sometimes he depresses me.” He shook his head. “Text me that picture of us, though. I want a copy.”

She opened Snapchat to send the photo to Edgar and saw Celes’s response to her message. “I understand. Celes can be pretty chilly, but she's still my best friend and I want her to be happy.”

“You're a better person than me,” Edgar laughed, “I just want Locke to quit crying every time we get drunk together. Maybe he needs to get laid. Celes too. That could be their problem.”

Terra blushed. “Well, she hates everything about Setzer, so that won't be happening any time soon.” She thought back to Arvis’s comments and to her conversation with Celes on Thursday night, but before she could contemplate her own lack of life experience any further, their team scored again and the crowd burst into a raucous cheer. Terra remembered something that Dr. Leo had told her recently about being too caught up in the past to live in the present, and she decided to put her heart into enjoying her first football game and spending time with Edgar instead of crossing off squares on her mental Weirdo Bingo card.

As they sat back down, Terra’s left hand crept towards Edgar’s, and she tentatively curled her fingers around his warm hand. Edgar smiled and squeezed Terra’s small hand in his own, only breaking apart when necessary to cheer.

# # #

During halftime, Terra accompanied Edgar to the front of the stands while the marching band and color guard played. He called down to one of the line coaches. “Hey! Harcourt!”

A man turned around and waved at Edgar. “Well, if it isn't the brains of the family. Let me see if the brawn has a spare minute,” he said, disappearing beneath the stands.

“Duncan Harcourt,” Edgar said quickly, “he's the assistant coach who convinced Sabin to play for VSU.”

Terra nodded. Moments later a tall, thickly muscled young man jogged up to the railing. His physique dwarfed Edgar’s, but his blonde hair, Roman nose, and toothy grin were the spitting image of his brother’s.

“What's up, shrimp?” Edgar leaned down and grasped Sabin’s hand. “Dude, you're killing it out there. I can't believe you stopped that quarterback sack at the end of the first quarter, I seriously thought we were boned.”

Sabin laughed and ran a hand through his damp hair. “Thanks, man.” He looked around the stadium. “The 49ers and the Broncos both have scouts here, you know how it goes. We Figaro boys thrive under pressure.” He glanced over at Terra, who stood next to Edgar. “Who's this?”

“This is Terra,” Edgar said, his hand on Terra’s back nudging her forward. “Terra, this is my little brother Sabin.”

Terra shook Sabin’s enormous hand. She was pretty sure her entire head could fit in one of his palms. “I wouldn't say shrimp,” she said to Edgar, her lips curving mischievously, “I think your brother looks more like a bear.”

“A bear?!” Sabin clutched his jersey dramatically. “Believe it or not, I was smaller than my brother when we were little.”

“And now that little shrimp has grown into a whopping lobster,” Edgar noted with a laugh.

Sabin shook his head. “Don't forget which one of us can bench your weight,” he replied. “Hey, I gotta get back, we’re running strategies before the second half.” He turned to Terra, “Nice to meet you, Terra. Word of advice. All those rumors you heard about Edgar are true. Old habits die hard.”

“What rumors?!” Edgar yelled after Sabin, who waved over his shoulder as he joined Coach Harcourt and headed back inside.

“Your brother seems nice,” Terra said, and before she could suggest going back to their seats, a man slightly older than Edgar approached them, squeezing Edgar’s shoulder. For a moment, Edgar looked startled. He turned towards the other man and plastered a smile on his face. “John. Didn't know you were here,” he said, and Terra detected a tone of annoyance in his response. “What brings you back to town?”

“Little Homecoming reunion with the brothers,” he replied. Terra couldn't miss the huge ring on his finger glittering under the bright stadium lights.” He turned to Terra. “I hope you don't mind if I borrow your boyfriend for a minute,” John said, smiling at Edgar. “We’re old acquaintances.”

Terra shook her head. “He's not my boyfriend,” she replied, “I'll wait here for you, Edgar.”

“I'll be back in a sec,” Edgar left with John towards a group of men seated along the 40 yard line, and Terra snuggled her face down into her cowl, leaning against the railing. She fished her phone out of her pocket and checked to see if Celes had sent any updates, but there hadn't been another text message for at least an hour. Terra figured that the opera must have started by now, and was looking at Snapchat stories when she heard women's voices talking behind her.

“I hope you don't think he's actually interested in dating you,” one of the girls said, and Terra swallowed. She knew they were talking to her, but the tone of the voice told her that she would be better off not acknowledging their presence.

“Don't ignore me,” the girl spoke again, and Terra slowly turned around. She didn't recognize the one who was talking to her, but one of the others in the group was someone she knew from her childhood development class. “You better not start thinking you're anything special just because Edgar wants to sleep with you,” she said, arching a perfectly groomed eyebrow. “You're so far out of his league, it's amazing he's even taking you out in public.”

Terra blinked a few times. “Excuse me?”

“Excuse me?” The girl behind the leader rolled her eyes mockingly at Terra. “I guess Edgar already fucked all the normal girls on campus, now he's gotta settle for the weird ones,” one said to the other, as if Terra wasn't clearly within earshot.

“You're in one of my classes,” the third spoke up. “Is it true that you used to be in some weird religious cult in a cornfield where they breed women like farm animals? I read about it on the Internet, that's so messed up.”

Terra’s heart was lodged in her throat and she felt vaguely nauseous. She wanted to turn around and walk away, but there wasn't a clear route unless she could fly. “I don't know what you're talking about,” she said, trying as hard as she could to keep her voice clear and steady. She wished Celes was with her, but in her absence Terra summoned her courage and decided to stand up for herself. “Edgar and I are just friends, anyway. I don't have an agenda.”

“Ladies,” Edgar said, returning to Terra’s side. “Terra, I didn't realize you knew Anna and her entourage.”

Anna clearly had a comeback prepared, but simply closed her mouth and smiled sweetly at Edgar. “We were just leaving,” she said, “Enjoy the rest of the game, Terra. Hopefully they keep the barn warm for you at home.”

The girls turned and walked away, but Terra’s jaw stayed set and her fists were balled so tight at her side that her arms trembled.

“Hey,” Edgar said, “you're shaking. Are you cold? We can go back inside.”

“Y...yes,” Terra replied, thankful for the excuse. “Let's head back to our seats. The game is starting again.”

As they climbed the bleachers, Edgar couldn't help but notice the change in Terra’s demeanor. He stopped Terra at the top of the steps and pulled her aside. “What's wrong, Terra? Are you upset about what Sabin said? He was mostly kidding.”

“No,” she replied woodenly. “Brothers tease each other, right.”

“What was Anna saying about a farm?” Edgar tried to change the subject, and Terra stiffened.

“It doesn't matter. Is she another one of your ex-girlfriends? I'm starting to wonder if what everyone keeps saying about you is true,” Terra said, and suddenly wished she could take her words back. She hadn't wanted to say anything cruel to Edgar, but the words just fell out of her mouth.

Edgar sighed, seemingly unmoved by Terra’s accusation, and scratched the back of his neck. “Yeah, we dated for a semester or so. I might have also kissed her sister when I was drunk at a party a couple of months later.” He smiled sheepishly. “Look, I've definitely done things I'm not proud of. But everyone's got stuff in their past, right? Hindsight is 20/20, as they say.”

 _If you knew what a freak I was in the past, you'd never speak to me again,_ Terra thought to herself. “They're already on the second down,” she replied. She wasn't sure she wanted to go back to their seats, but she also didn't want Edgar to think she was any weirder than he undoubtedly already did by asking him to leave. Edgar sensed her discomfort but couldn't get Terra to talk to him about it, so he wordlessly held the door open and followed her inside to their seats.

The rest of the game passed in relative silence compared to the first half; Edgar desperately wanted another beer to take the edge off but now knew that Terra couldn't drive them home, and Terra’s perfunctory cheers lacked the passion that she'd had before her confrontation with the girls. He had no idea how to salvage the situation; usually when a date went bad he either drank enough to turn it around or simply ended the evening, but neither seemed appropriate for this situation.

Terra couldn't shake the feeling of dread in her heart. She knew there were articles written about Kefka’s cult on the Internet, although she hadn't had the stomach to read them yet. How Anna and her friends found out that she was associated with them was another story. Terra was very careful who she told about her past; people judged each other so harshly on the outside, and she was always worried that Kefka would find out where she had gone and try to find her.

The game ended with a victory for Vector State, and the players ran out on the field to raucous applause. “What now?” Terra asked, raising her voice for Edgar to hear, “is there a party or something?”

“There is, and I was going to ask if you wanted to go, but if you’d rather go home I'll take you home.”

Terra nodded. “If you don't mind,” she forced a smile, “I’ve had enough crowds for one day, and I think I'm losing my voice.” They quickly exited the box, and Edgar guided her through the crowds with his hand on her back as they had done on the way into the stadium. The man with the ring passed Edgar going in the opposite direction as they left, inquiring about their plans for the night. Edgar cordially declined, and when they were safely ensconced in the cab of the F-150, Terra noticed Edgar’s disquiet for the first time.

“That man,” Terra asked, “who is he?”

“John Gestahl,” Edgar replied, easing the truck out of his parking space and lining up to exit the lot. “His father’s a police sergeant for one of the larger districts in the state and was a big supporter of Dad’s senate bids. His father's fine; John rubs me the wrong way, but he's well connected and it's easier to be his friend than his enemy,” he explained.

Terra gasped. “Gestahl?” The color drained from her face and she felt sick again. For a moment, she forgot her own anxiety, struck by the sudden realization that she'd just met the man who had hurt her best friend so badly and walked away as if it never happened. _No wonder Celes wouldn't go to the police_ , she mused, _she probably thought that they wouldn't help her, not when it was her word against the word of a sergeant’s son._

Edgar glanced at Terra, a perturbed look marring his handsome face. The first half of their date had been so pleasant that he wished he hadn't taken her out of the box seats to meet Sabin. Everything seemed to have gone downhill from there. “Do you know him from somewhere? He would have graduated during your freshman year, if my math is right.”

“No,” Terra said quietly. “I mean, I don't know him personally.” She hesitated, realizing that she had likely raised even more red flags in Edgar’s mind. “Don't worry about it. I must be thinking of someone else.” He looked at her with a concerned expression while trying to focus on the road. Terra offered no further explanation, and Edgar sighed.

“You're a question wrapped in an enigma, you know? Every time I learn one thing about you, I uncover two or three new mysteries.” Edgar turned out of the parking lot and started towards Terra and Celes’s apartment. “There's something different about you, Terra.”

“Sorry.” Her voice was small and slightly hoarse.

“Don't apologize. Different is good. I guess we’ll just have to go out again so I can get to know you a little better,” Edgar said optimistically. “I know you said this wasn't a date,” he added, “Maybe next time can be one?”

Terra’s forehead crumpled. She thought of Arvis and Sabin's teasing, and Anna, her sister, her friends, and countless other women Edgar had courted who weren't raised in a religious cult without access to the outside world. “Why are you being so nice to a girl like me?”

“Let’s see...you're beautiful, for starters. Second, I'm still dying to know if I'm your type. And I can't forget about the mysteries, but that's a distant third,” he chuckled, pleased that he'd convinced her to talk to him again. “By this point girls are usually begging me to go out with them again...maybe my technique is getting a little rusty.”

Terra silently considered Edgar’s words. Under different circumstances, perhaps even earlier in the day, she would have been blushing furiously but excited at his invitation. After the events that evening, she felt more confused than ever. Anna and Gestahl’s faces flashed once more through her mind, and an image of Kefka made its way into the mix, burning like salt in an open wound. Edgar seemed positive about history staying in the past, but Terra wasn't so sure that moving on was so simple.

Edgar turned two more corners and stopped the car in front of her apartment building. “Well, we're here. Thanks for coming to the game with me.”

She glanced up at Edgar and back at the apartment. “I actually had a good time, other than that stuff with Anna.” She also couldn't shake Gestahl's visage; there was something that bothered her about him other than what he had done to Celes. Terra couldn't put her finger on it, but she knew she wouldn't be able to forget him.

“I honestly had no idea Anna would be there. She hates football,” he apologized.

“It's okay. Maybe we can go somewhere a little less crowded on our date?” Terra smiled.

“Yeah,” Edgar’s face broke into a grin with the realization that she had accepted his invitation. “Definitely.”

“I should go. I've got to get inside and feed Mog. She's probably starving and it doesn't look like Celes is back from the opera yet.” She unbuckled her seatbelt and reached for the handle, pausing for a moment before opening the door.

“Did you forget-” Edgar’s question was cut off by the feathery touch of Terra’s lips on his. The kiss lasted for a mere moment, but the feeling seared into his brain like a tattoo.

“Drive safely,” Terra said, opening the door and jumping down to the ground. “Good night, Edgar.” Terra didn't look back as she headed into the building, jogging up the stairs to her apartment and heading inside. She leaned against the door with her heart pounding, wondering what came over her as Mog meowed plaintively and rubbed against her legs.

Edgar waited for another minute until Terra came to the window, and he waved at her silhouette before starting the truck and heading for home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The text in the summary is from Piaget's theory of cognitive development, which is what Terra was writing a research paper on during the last chapter.
> 
> I am playing with ages a little to make them fit better into the college AU: Setzer and Gestahl are 24-25; Edgar, Locke, and Sabin are 21-22; Celes and Terra are 19-20. It's an AU, that's allowed, right?
> 
> Anna is an OC. There are surprisingly few throwaway female characters in this game, and nobody who was such a huge bitch anyway D:
> 
> And yeah, I cribbed a little more game dialogue for this chapter :)


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Acute rejection begins as early as one week after transplant, the risk being highest in the first three months, though it can occur months to years later. A single episode of acute rejection can be recognized and promptly treated, usually preventing organ failure, but recurrent episodes lead to chronic rejection.  
> (Wikipedia)

“Celes? Celes?”

  
Celes heard Terra outside her door and reluctantly pried her eyes open. She instantly regretted that decision, buried her face in her pillow, and tried to block out all sensory input.

  
“Are you okay?” Terra knocked on the bedroom door, eliciting a nonverbal sound from Celes. She sighed. “Grunt twice for yes and once for no.”

  
“Ugh,” Celes groaned. “I'm fine. Don't come in,” she added, realizing she was completely naked beneath her sheets. Without opening her eyes, she envisioned her bedroom floor covered in a trail of clothes that were shed as she stumbled to her bed. A quick peek at the floor confirmed her suspicions. Celes rolled over, heard a noise at her side, and she was suddenly wide awake.

  
“Oh god,” she muttered, turning hesitantly to her right. To her immense relief, the soft white hair next to her on the pillow belonged to Mog.

  
“I'm sorry to bother you,” Terra said through the door. “Apparently Locke is worried. He called Edgar to get me to check on you. I told him you were home and safe, but your car is still at his place and they tow after 24 hours.”

  
Celes yawned and sat up in bed, immediately wishing she hadn't. Her head felt like it had been crushed in a vise and she tasted stomach acid in her throat. _I feel marginally better than when I had the crap beat out of me_ , she thought, and decided she was never getting drunk again. Coffee and painkillers called her name, so Celes reached for her pajama pants and a tank top, standing up to make herself halfway decent. She felt her thighs and lower back protest in concert with her head, and she pressed her fingers to her temples to stave off the pain.

  
The door to Celes’s bedroom opened, and Terra gasped when she saw Celes emerge into the light. “Oh my god,” she squeaked, and Celes winced at the high-pitched noise.

  
“Yeah, I look like hell, I'm sure. If we’re out of coffee, I'm gonna kill myself,” she said wryly. Celes glanced back at Terra, who looked more concerned than she expected. “I'm not serious, I just feel like shit. I guess I of all people shouldn't make suicide jokes, huh?”

  
“What happened? I don't remember hearing about audience participation at the opera.” Terra scooped Mog up in her arms and scratched under her chin while Celes rummaged in the cabinet for the jar of instant coffee that she kept for emergencies. She started the electric kettle and as it warmed, wandered to the bathroom to wash her face and find the strongest painkillers available.

  
Terra followed behind. “Setzer didn't try to hurt you, did he?” Her mind went to Gestahl for a moment.

  
“No...he's my height and skinny, I could have kicked his ass if he did.” Celes said, thinking briefly of Setzer’s body aligned against hers in the backseat of the limousine. “How was the football game?” Celes took a long look at herself in the mirror as she talked. Her hair was a rat’s nest, she had black eyeliner circles surrounding her eyes, and she noticed that her lower lip was swollen. Celes touched her lip and tried unsuccessfully to remember biting it that hard last night. She wet a washcloth in the sink and scrubbed her face to remove her smeared makeup, plucking off the false eyelashes that were remarkably still intact and brushing her teeth despite the fact that it would make her coffee taste bad.

  
“It was fun,” Terra said, deciding to leave Arvis and the altercation with Anna out of the story. She didn't want Celes to either become upset or try to prove that she was right about Edgar all along. Last night, Terra's dreams had been so pleasant that when she woke she was disappointed to find an empty space next to her in bed. She put those thoughts aside for the moment and continued her inquisition. “Edgar was very patient with the fact that I had no idea what was going on, and I got to meet his brother, who was really nice. But you're avoiding me, what the heck happened to you? You know I don't give up easily.”

  
Celes shut off the bathroom light, looking and feeling like marginally less of a train wreck. She wasn't going to tell Terra what happened when she could neither remember all the details nor completely comprehend her own feelings. “I found out during the opera that Locke traded a date with me to Setzer for a chance to get his ex-girlfriend back,” she explained, “Setzer left a bottle of champagne in the limo, so I drank most of it on the way home...I guess I just wanted to forget the whole night.” She stirred several spoonfuls of coffee into the water to make a muddy black syrup, grimacing as she swallowed enough to start taking the edge off her hangover. None of what she said was a lie, she decided, though she felt guilty when she considered the details that were omitted from the story. “Lesson learned: don't drink a whole bottle of Blanc De Blancs if you don't want to feel like death warmed over the next morning.”

  
“Wow, you really did drink a lot,” Terra said, setting Mog down on the couch, “was the opera at least decent, or was the whole night sucky?”

  
“I didn't really pay a lot of attention, it was some kind of love triangle in Latin, and I hated that class,” Celes replied, “Sorry. The opera house was cool though. Maybe you can talk Edgar into taking you. I've got a dress you can borrow,” she added.

  
“I don't think the opera is Edgar’s thing,” Terra laughed, “although we are going on a real date next weekend.” She grinned happily at Celes’s surprised look. Gestahl lurked in the back of her mind, and she wondered if she should even tell Celes if she ran into him. So far, the morning was going so well that she didn't think she should spoil it.

  
Celes flopped onto the couch with coffee in one hand and her phone In the other, checking her missed calls and texts from the last twelve hours. There were a few from Locke that she chose to ignore for the moment; he knew that she was home safely and that was all he needed to know at the moment. Celes decided to pick her car up that afternoon while Locke was at work, and wondered if she had any money left on her Starbucks gift card, as the coffee shop was going to be a no-go for the immediate future.

  
“Well, that's news,” Celes replied. Terra expected her best friend to be either upset or happy for her, but instead she sounded distracted and looked confused. “I've got a bunch of texts from a weird number,” she explained.

  
“It's not Gestahl, is it?” Terra said without thinking, and Celes jerked her head up from her screen.

  
“Why would it be Gestahl? He's gone, thank fuck, and I changed my phone number the week after everything happened.” Distraction and confusion gave way to old feelings of dread. Terra’s casual mention of Gestahl was unsettling to say the least; that wasn't a name she often dropped in conversation.

  
Terra nervously played with one of the strings on her hoodie. “I met him last night,” she admitted in a small voice. “At the football game.”

  
Celes felt a pit open in her stomach. “What...what was he doing there? How did you know it was him? He's an egotistical son of a bitch but he doesn't walk around with a name tag on.” She had sworn to never cross paths with Gestahl again; the saving grace of their age difference and his privilege was that she only had to avoid him for a few weeks, as he had left the country to spend the last semester of his senior year at the Oxford School of Business. The last she heard was that Gestahl stayed in London after graduation, and Celes couldn't be happier that an ocean separated them.

  
“He was there with his old fraternity brothers. And um...apparently he and Edgar know each other. Their fathers are politically connected.” Celes looked like she was going to throw up, and Terra pressed her lips together, trying to figure out how to salvage both the conversation and Edgar’s reputation in Celes’s mind. “Edgar doesn't actually like him, he says it's easier to be on his good side than his bad side.”

  
“Yeah, because if you oppose him, he thinks it's okay to beat your face in.” Her hands trembled as she reached for her coffee. “Why would he come back to Vector, of all places.” Celes took a deep breath. “Jesus, I can't even this morning, and now this. I knew Edgar couldn't be trusted, either.”

  
Terra sighed. “I told you, they aren't friends. You have every reason to hate Gestahl, but I don't know why you can't believe that Edgar is a good person inside.” She stood up with a frustrated huff and headed into the kitchen. Terra knew how stubborn Celes could be, especially when she was on the defensive.

  
“So he says,” Celes looked back down at her phone. “I couldn't wait for Saturday night to end and life to go back to normal this morning, but it seems like things are more complicated than before.” She opened the mystery text message, trying to forget the sinking feeling that had overcome her.

  
LET ME KNOW IF YOU GOT THIS MESSAGE. COORDINATION NOT SO GOOD RN

  
The next message read:

  
CANT TEXT U WHEN U DISTRACTING ME ;)

  
Celes really needed to turn read receipts off on her phone. Under normal circumstances her life was nowhere near dramatic enough for them to matter. She fired off a text message and took another sip of coffee.

  
WHO IS THIS?

  
She went to set the phone down, but saw three dots appear on the screen as she placed it on the coffee table. Terra was in the kitchen pouring a bowl of cereal, her green ponytail facing Celes. She picked up her phone as quickly as she put it down, hoping Terra didn't notice.

  
SETZER

  
Celes dropped her head into her hand. _Did I seriously give Setzer my number? How careless have I let myself become?_ She closed her eyes and tried to recall which point in the evening she decided that was a good idea. Everything was kind of a blur after they opened the bottle of champagne, but there was no doubt in her mind what had ultimately happened. Celes remembered eating pizza, the rigged coin toss, kissing on the park bench, and realizing that she wanted to sleep with Setzer. She was sure she insisted on using protection, but couldn't remember if he actually put the condom on or if he made an excuse. _Oh my god, I wouldn't have let him get away with that, would I? I wouldn't have had drunk sex on the first date with a guy I barely knew and not used a condom. I'm too responsible for that._

  
She mulled over her previous thought and ignored the blatant contradiction, instead contemplating the blank spaces in her memory that were rapidly driving her towards an anxiety attack. Celes opened Google on her phone and typed “anonymous medical test clinic near me”. In a second window she looked up “plan B price”. As the results were loading, another message interrupted her search.

  
I’D THINK YOU’D REMEMBER MY NAME AFTER SCREAMING IT A FEW TIMES

  
Celes groaned and tapped out a response.

  
HOW DID YOU GET THIS NUMBER?

  
She waited for Terra to sit down next to her on the couch, but her roommate returned to her bedroom, cereal in tow. Great...more drama.

  
YOU PUT IT IN MY PHONE YOURSELF. HOW ARE YOU FEELING THIS MORNING?

  
Celes set her phone down on the table next to her cooling cup of coffee and tried to decide what to do. She didn't want to speak to Locke, Terra didn't seem to want to speak to her, and she shouldn't want to speak to Setzer but didn't think she could lay her worries to rest without figuring out exactly what happened the night before. There was also the matter of Gestahl, and she opened a third browser window, searching “women's self defense class” before dropping her phone on the table and heading into the bathroom to take a long, hot shower.

  
# # #

  
“What's the score?” Wedge wandered in from the garage, wiping his hands on a shop towel as he glanced at the TV mounted opposite the reception counter.

  
“Bears are up by a touchdown,” Setzer said around a mouthful of his sandwich. He didn't particularly care one way or the other about the teams beyond statistics, but there was money in betting on sports in a college town, so he left the games on as background noise.

  
Darill had been a football fan; it was her second great love after cars. Setzer could never understand how a woman who lived for breaking speed records could like such a slow-moving sport, but he had fond memories of spending heart-pounding Saturdays at the racetrack followed by lazy Sundays in bed with her, sharing cigarettes and otherwise while her favorite teams played on TV.

  
His thoughts of Darill reminded him that Locke still hadn't committed to a date for the Porsche, and he fired off an inquiring text message. Setzer considered adding innuendo when he thanked Locke for Celes’s company last night, but he decided to save it for the next time he saw Locke in person. The look on the other man's face was going to be worth the wait.

  
Wedge leaned on the counter and stared at the TV for a moment. “You look a little rough,” he commented. “How'd your date go?”

  
“Haven't gotten laid in a backseat since I could legally drink,” Setzer smiled mischievously, “Definitely worth the hangover.”

  
“You're a lucky motherfucker,” Wedge shook his head. “How drunk did she have to get before she agreed?”

  
“Ha,” Setzer replied. “When was the last time you got off with anyone other than Rosie and her five sisters?”

  
Their banter was interrupted by the bell ringing on the door. Setzer and Wedge looked up to see a man in a red polo shirt, black jacket, and dark jeans enter the shop. A ring on his finger caught the afternoon sunlight as he pulled the door closed behind him.

  
“Welcome to Blackjack Automotive,” Setzer pulled himself upright and crumpled the remainder of his lunch wrappers in his hands. He glanced through the front window, seeing a sleek red Camaro parked outside. “That your ride? Very nice.”

  
“Thanks,” the man replied. “Nothing quite like American made, is there?” He looked around the small reception area. “I’m looking for some modifications. I understand this is the place in this area to come for good aftermarket work,” he said.

  
“You’ve heard correctly,” Setzer crossed his arms over his chest, and Wedge took that cue to head back to the garage. Business at Blackjack was normally done on a one-to-one basis. “What are you looking to have done?”

  
“Blackout tint, engine upgrades, interior refinishing. I've got a few associates who also need some repairs done, and I'd be happy to throw them your way if the quality is there.”

  
“I'm in the business of customs, not mechanic work.” Setzer normally turned these types of customers away, but the man’s clothes, vehicle, and general demeanor were indicative of a relatively high income tax bracket. If his associates were cut from a similar cloth, this could be a profitable endeavor. “Tell you what. Let's go have a look at your vehicle, show me what you're looking to do, and we’ll agree on scope and price. If you like the work, you let your associates know to stop by.”

  
The man nodded and Setzer followed him out to the car. “Setzer Gabbiani,” he said, extending his hand.

  
“John Gestahl,” he said, shaking Setzer’s hand.

  
Setzer and Gestahl took a perfunctory walk around the Camaro. Gestahl explained the scope of work, and Setzer kept a running tally in his head as to what the work would cost and what he would ultimately charge. There was nothing that Gestahl was asking that couldn't be done by someone with basic familiarity of American sports cars, so Setzer surmised that Gestahl was at Blackjack based on his reputation for discretion rather than his specialization.

  
“So, Setzer, what’s your take?” Gestahl asked.

  
Setzer patted the Camaro’s hood. “Should be fairly simple. I'll email you a quote in a day or so once I have a chance to check timelines with my suppliers. Can I get your contact information?”

  
“Pleasure doing business with you.” Gestahl reached in his wallet and took out a business card, passing it to Setzer.

  
“Empire Capital Holdings, LLC,” Setzer read the card out loud. “What line of work are you in, Mr. Gestahl?”

  
“Personal finance, real estate, that sort of thing,” Gestahl said. “But, in a couple of years, it might be State Representative Gestahl, if luck’s on my side.” He smiled at Setzer. “Thanks for your time today, man. I look forward to doing business with you.”

  
“Likewise,” Setzer replied, and he turned Gestahl’s card over in his hands a couple of times before pocketing it in his jacket and lighting a cigarette as the red Camaro drove away.

  
# # #

  
The afternoon had been unexpectedly productive; after a shower, three cups of coffee, and a handful of Advil, Celes felt like a member of the living world again. She had signed up for a self-defense class that had its first meeting on Wednesday, finished her calculus homework, turned in her chemistry lab write-up and read ahead a chapter in her genetics textbook before she remembered she still needed to get her car. Terra had declined to accompany her on the errand, so she set off alone to Locke’s apartment. She had a seat to herself and Lady Gaga in her headphones, which was the perfect invitation for her mind to wander for the entire trip.

  
During the bus ride between her apartment and Locke’s, Celes ran scenarios in her head in case Locke wasn't working and she ran into him in the parking lot. It was either that, she decided, or think about the line of hickeys from her hipbone to her inner thigh she’d discovered while showering and try to recall what point in the night she'd acquired them. _Or, you know, you could always think about your classwork, since that's what's actually important, not these fuckboys you keep trifling with lately,_ Responsible Celes admonished.

  
The bus stopped a block away from Locke’s just before the sun started setting. Thankfully, there wasn't a ticket or a boot on her car. She sat in the driver’s seat with her phone in her hand and the engine running.

  
“I should go grocery shopping, then go home,” she said aloud.

  
A few minutes later, she had found Blackjack Automotive in Google Maps and entered the route into her phone. As she navigated the streets towards the far west side of Vector, Celes thought back to the promise she'd made on Thursday night: confront the bullshit with Locke, never see Setzer again, and get back to academics. She seemed to be failing on multiple accounts, and with every turn on the map, more butterflies filled her stomach. Celes wrote the nervous flutters off as anxiety, refusing to acknowledge how pleasant the moments of the limousine ride that she could recall were. A lascivious thought crossed her mind, and she scolded herself for even considering asking Setzer to refresh her memory.

  
She arrived at Blackjack Automotive, parked in one of the diagonal spaces, and took a long, deep breath. The sign on the door read “closed” but all the lights were still on, so Celes walked over to the door and knocked.

  
A man in mechanic’s garb came to the door and opened it a crack; the patch on his shirt identified him as Wedge. “We’re closed, miss.” He glanced at her car, then back at her. She wasn't the type of customer who normally came by the shop. “You having car trouble?”

  
She thought for a moment and nodded. “Um...yeah, it's making a funny noise. Don't suppose you know of a mechanic that's still open?”

  
“Who's there?” Celes heard Setzer call from behind the door.

  
“Girl with car trouble, I was gonna send her to Vargas’s garage.”

  
Setzer came to the door, and upon seeing Celes his expression turned from a vaguely annoyed grimace to a welcoming smile.

  
“Hey Wedge, why don't you cut out early tonight? I can close up,” he said. The mechanic  threw a knowing look at Setzer, well aware of his boss’s weakness for pretty blondes.

  
“Yeah, I'll see you Tuesday. Have a good night. Good luck with the car, miss.”

  
Celes entered the shop and Setzer locked the door behind her. She looked around the reception area, which was a cross between her mechanic and a high-end auto dealership, and also took the opportunity to observe Setzer in his natural habitat. He wore a collared black shirt with the sleeves rolled halfway up over a pair of dark jeans, and his hair was pulled into a low ponytail not unlike the one she had last night, _sans_ ribbon. For some reason she expected him to also wear a mechanic’s shirt, but realized that as the owner, he probably didn't work on the cars himself.

  
Setzer waited until he heard Wedge’s '86 Grand National roar to life and pull away from the shop before he faced Celes. He had his back to her but was watching her in the two-way mirror that divided the reception area from the garage. Her long blonde hair fell loose over her shoulders today, and she was dressed in skinny jeans, a green and white oversized sweater, and blue high-top Converse All-Stars. She looked closer to her age than she did last night, but he decided she might be even prettier in her element than out of it.

  
“I didn't expect to see you again so soon.” He walked behind the reception desk and leaned his elbows on the counter.

  
“I didn't expect to see you again period,” she replied. “But here we are.”

  
“You never responded to my text. I guess you're one of the lucky ones that don't get hangovers? We drank a lot last night,” he reminded her.

  
Celes snorted. “No, I woke up this morning feeling like I'd been comatose for a year. Turns out it was ten hours, but you know. I don't really drink.”

  
“Wouldn't have guessed,” Setzer smiled behind his hand, remembering Celes telling him three times that she never, ever drank after she finished the last drops of the Blanc de Blancs straight from the bottle. “So what do I owe this visit? Considering the start we got off to, I assumed I was going to have to work a lot harder and wait more than a day before you turned up at my door.”

  
She folded her arms over her chest and glanced at the wall behind Setzer instead of making eye contact. “I was in the neighborhood.”

  
“Bullshit,” he said, “you can't possibly expect me to believe that, or that you're here because you're having car trouble. Wedge is a great detailer but he's an idiot sometimes,” Setzer threw the last part in for good measure.

  
“Ugh, fine,” Celes groaned petulantly. “I don't remember some things from last night and I didn't want to text you about it."

  
Setzer shook his head. “You know I was pretty drunk too, right? I also said some things that were a little out of character. Don't sweat it. I had a great time, you seemed to as well."

  
“I can't finish my degree if I'm pregnant,” she blurted out, “and I don't want to have to cure HIV before I die from it.” Celes stared at the floor, unable to make eye contact. She heard Setzer cough, sigh, and slide off the counter stool to stand close behind her. He gently rubbed her knotted shoulders; she couldn't decide if she wanted to relax into his touch or push him away.

  
“Slow down,” Setzer said, realizing that she must have blacked out for most of the ride home. He remembered the first time he had been that drunk and how disconcerting it was the next day. “I wore a condom. You insisted and even if you hadn't, I would have.” Her body was still as rigid as a steel beam beneath his hands. “In case you're wondering, it didn't break or fall off, I swear on the hood of my Shelby that I'm telling you the truth. And I’m clean, but if you want us to get tested before we have sex again, I'm fine with that.”

  
“What makes you think we’re having sex again?” Celes abruptly shot back, turning to face him. He put his hands in his pockets and smiled knowingly.

  
“You don't give a one-night stand your phone number if you want them to stay a one-night stand,” he reasoned, “and you could have called to ask these questions instead of driving all the way out here. You live on the opposite end of town.”

  
“How do you-” she started, and then remembered that the limo had dropped her off at her apartment. “Christ, you know where I live now, too.”

  
“Yup, so I could come kidnap you in the middle of the night if I wanted to,” he said with a serious look on his face, “better keep your windows shut.”

  
Celes blinked. “I hope you're joking.” Setzer was so close to her that could feel the heat of his body and smell his cologne and cigarettes. The nervousness in her belly had given way to something else entirely, and she knew she should turn and walk out of the shop but her feet stayed planted to the floor.

  
“What else did you want to ask me? I've got a bunch of paperwork to do before I can get out of here.”

  
“That was mostly it,” she said. It dawned on her that with her fears of unplanned pregnancy and incurable disease assuaged, she had no other reason to be at the shop. Now that she stood in front of him with her senses inundated by his presence, Celes could lucidly recall arching her body into his while the seatbelt buckle dug into her spine. Her mind again insisted that she leave, but her blood and skin craved the pleasure of his touch.

  
“Unless you want to look at my car?”

  
In one movement, Setzer closed the distance between them, cupped her face in his hands and kissed her. What her mind forgot, her body remembered, and she melted into the warmth of his lips. He walked Celes backwards towards the counter, leaning her over and pressing his body against hers. His kisses were relentless, moving from her lips down her slender neck. Setzer remembered the spot behind her ear that made her shiver and pressed a kiss there while his fingers carded through her rose-scented hair.

  
“Stop,” Celes said, pushing him away from her, “Stop it now. Get off of me.”

  
Setzer stood up abruptly, and Celes haltingly stepped away, wiping her hand across her mouth. “What did I do?” he asked, thoroughly confused. “You liked it when I did that last-”

  
“I can't,” she cut him off, “I can't do this, it's not who I am. I slept with you last night because I was drunk and angry at Locke. I'm not drunk now, and I'm not going to sleep with you again. I'm an honor student, not a desperate whore.” She clenched her teeth and set her shoulders, trying unsuccessfully to mask her surging emotions.

  
Celes took a few steps towards the door, and Setzer sighed, shaking his head. This was why he didn't normally bother with college girls, no matter how pretty their faces or firm their asses. “Okay, I get it,” he replied, straightening his shirt and walking behind the counter. “I thought our feelings were mutual, but apparently I was wrong. Maybe we should both just forget about last night." He looked up at the clock on the wall. "Did you need anything else? I'm sure you've got homework to do, too.”

  
Setzer’s voice was aggravated; Celes’s heart was thundering in her throat. The tension in the room was palpable. “I guess not. I'll let you get back to your very important work,” she said, turning on her heel and and walking out without another word. The door slammed shut and Setzer ran his hands through his hair, exasperated with Celes and himself in equal measures. He knew he shouldn't let Celes affect him so profoundly, but in spite of her immaturity and stubborn nature, her beauty, intelligence and determination augmented by the sensuality that he had witnessed last night had already found their way under his skin.

  
Celes was confused, disappointed and angry with herself to begin with, and Setzer’s patronizing remark at the end was the last nail in the coffin. Her hands shook for the entire drive home. At the Taco Bell drive through she was so distracted that she forgot to take her food before pulling away, only returning when she heard one of the employees calling after her. Celes parked the car, went straight to her room past Terra’s closed door, and collapsed onto her bed fighting back frustrated tears. As if on cue, her phone buzzed and she looked at it with blurry eyes. The message was from Locke.

  
I SAW YOU PICKED UP YOUR CAR. SETZER SAID HE HAD A GREAT TIME LAST NIGHT. HOPE ALL IS OK.

  
Celes threw her phone across the room and punched her pillow. Terra was upset with her. She was angry at Locke. Edgar was a jerk with terrible friends. And Setzer...she couldn't think about him any more today. Celes loathed how confused she felt every time he crossed her mind. She stuffed her cold burritos into her mouth, brushed her teeth, and curled up in bed hoping for dreams of covalent bonds and calculus.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh the drama! Can you tell I spent my formative years watching Aaron Spelling shows? Also bless you if nothing Celes is going through in this chapter is at all familiar >_>
> 
> Celes's outfit in this chapter is supposed to resemble her weird green leotard and boots that her sprite wears in-game.
> 
> I am really trying my hardest to keep this PG13 but if M/E rated side-stories eventually emerge I'm not going to apologize any more than I already have XD;


End file.
